Serendipity
by EmeraldJay2210
Summary: Loki only trusted one person. Himself. But was his downfall so great that he needed to trust someone else for a change? His failure has led him to be held hostage by mere mortals. But, Loki wasn't their only prisoner. Ayla, the daughter of a dangerous man, has dreamed of freedom from her current life. What will happen when Loki offers her the one thing she desires? An escape.
1. Chapter 1

Falling, that's what it felt like - but how could one tell? Was this abyss endless? Had Loki Laufeyson died, and this is a god's final destination? They fall into an eternal blackness? Loki didn't scream. He was still in shock, perhaps. Or was it the realization? Was it the realization that made him voiceless? He felt betrayed by the ones he used to call his family. The disdain was clear in Odin's eye.

Loki could have been falling for minutes, hours, days, weeks maybe. Time had more or less become meaningless since he had let go of the Gungnir in Thor's hand. But no matter how long he had been in this abyss, he could still hauntingly recall his encounter with the Allfather vividly.

"I could have done it, father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!" While his father was in the Odinsleep all Loki had done was take the throne, it was his birthright. With Thor banished from Asgard because of his boyish urge for war against Jotunheim, Loki was next in line for the crown. It was what Asgard needed, what his people needed. Thor's incapability of running the throne had been clear once he claimed war on Jotunheim. Odin cast Thor out. After Loki had learned of his true parentage, Odin had still claimed him to be his son. The guard had presented him the role of king while his father lay, unconscious. Loki had killed Laufey, the true monster. He saved Odin, his mother, and all of Asgard. All while Thor was defenseless on Earth.

Everything Loki had done was for Odin's approval. It was for the good of Asgard and how is it that the Allfather responds to that?

"No, Loki."

The words repeated in his head. No Loki, you are not worthy enough. No Loki, it was never your birthright to be king. No Loki, none of this was good enough. No Loki...you were never my son.

Then there was Thor. His brother, or so they had Loki believe. The brother who had returned to Asgard. The brother who had returned to battle Loki as if he were another villain in Thor's path.

Loki felt there was nothing for him now. He had no place to call home. No throne to rule. No family of his own. Nothing. That's what he had. He had nothing.

He was left falling, with rage coursing through his veins.

The peculiar abyss remained continuous until Loki saw what was at the end of it. A gaping hole. As he was falling at the end, the abyss was growing larger, and Loki could see the opening to another realm, but he didn't know which one. In one quick down swish, his body was out of the forsaken portal and into this unknown world. In this world it was too dark and air was sprinting across Loki's face causing his eyes to sting, making it more difficult for him to see. He kept falling but this time, the panic was finally sinking in. He struggled in the air as the ground was beginning to become more visible. He tried to think quickly, waving his hands in front of him for his magic to save him.

But he was too late. His body slammed into some sort of unyielding structure and he landed on the ground, hitting his head. Everything went black

* * *

Pound.

Pound.

Pound.

Sweat was beating from her forehead, lines of blonde hair drenched into brown. The wrappings around her knuckles were starting to rip, along with her skin. Pain struck through the nerves of her hands but it encouraged her to continue hitting the punching bag. The echoes of the pounds surrounded the room she stood in. They rang through her ears and vibrated through her tense frame. She was stopped by a voice.

"Harley."

Her hands wrapped around the punching bag, causing it to stop swaying. She didn't make eye contact with the man.

"What?"

"We got something."

* * *

Everything came in flashes for Loki.

The muttering of male voices surrounding him. His body being lifted. His knees dragging through rocks, dirt, and twigs. Bright lights blinding his sore vision. The men's voices growing louder, more obnoxious, and their words became clearer.

"He's an intruder."

"You should have left him for dead."

"Go get the boss."

"Should we kill him?"

Yet, even while all of this was happening, Loki wasn't able to react. He observed everything going on as if he wasn't in his body. He felt the men slam him into a chair, tie his wrists together behind his back. They poured ice water into a bucket. Loki's body was too weak to react, until said ice water was thrown onto his face.

The excruciatingly cold water shot through his pale skin causing a sharp gasp to escape his body. Now he was fully awake. He heaved heavy breaths. Azure eyes shot open and darted towards the men surrounding him. Tall figures stood before him, some crossed armed, some leaning against the walls and tables, some holding weapons. But they all shared menacing traits across their faces. Loki felt bound around his wrists and immediately attempted to pull his arms. He hissed as he struggled to escape the metal chair. This caused the man directly in front of him to smile maliciously.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"Release me." Loki growled.

"Not a chance." The man standing directly in front of him looked to another one of his fellow men. "Check to see if there are more." With that command, three men sprinted out, including the man given the order. He looked back to Loki.

"So what happened? You fall off the roof while trying to spy on us?" Loki's only response to this was sending daggers through his glare at the man. The man leaned in, placing his hands on his knees. His eye level meeting Loki's. "Who do you work for?"

No response.

"Alright. We'll get you to talk somehow." His volume of voice raised. "Where is she?!"

"I'm right here." All of the men looked up, including the tied up God. A woman paced towards the circle of men. Her stance caused the men to react differently. They stood up straighter, their menacing faces disappeared. Loki noticed this. Was this mere woman the one who held authority over these barbarous mortals?

Finally, she planted her feet behind the man kneeling in front of Loki. "What did you guys drag in this time?" There was annoyance in the tone of her voice as she crossed her arms.

One man leaning on a metal table spoke. "We found him inside the compound. There's no trace of how he got in."

Another man spoke, "We think he broke in and probably fell off the roof by accident."

One yelled from the back. "He's an intruder who should be dealt with."

The man kneeling in front of her spoke again, "He doesn't want to talk." The man stood up, standing beside the girl. His hand reached up near her face, he lightly entangled his fingers around bleach blonde hair that escaped from the girl's braid. "You think you can get something out of him?"

She smiled as her hand met with his, swiftly releasing the hair around his fingers. Loki observed this with a furrowed brow, but her next action surprised him, it even amused him. The girl harshly pulled the man's hand back, twisting it. His face scrunched as he tried to hide his reaction of pain.

She spoke softly. "Don't ever touch me." His twisted hand stayed in her grasp for another moment before she forcibly pushed it away.

Loki's deep chuckle caught their attention. This was met with a punch to the face from the man. Loki's face swooshed to the side, black strands of hair following suit. He adjusted his sharp jaw and his eyes darted towards the man. "You'll regret that."

"Oh really?" The man stood in a cocky stance. "Is that a threat pretty boy?"

"It's a promise."

"That's enough." The woman standing before them spoke.

She watched their prisoner intently. There were cuts around different parts of his face. One across his straight nose. One above his dark eyebrow. One straight down the side of his pale forehead and one cutting through the bottom of his thin lips. She furrowed an eyebrow when she noticed how he was dressed. Leather armour with fabrics of green and plates of gold. As elegant as the outfit once looked, it was now torn and damaged severely. Some rips revealed skin around one of his shoulders, across his chest, and one on his torso. There were a few slits along his leather pants as well.

Despite his disgruntled look, she could see a fury, waiting to be unleashed. If given the chance, he would be ready to fight, however, she could also see that he was physically weak. The dark circles around his piercing blue eyes contradicted the mischievous spirit he was radiating. There was something about him that intrigued her.

"Leave us." She said, which shocked every single man in the room. Including Loki.

One man walked towards her with hesitation, "Are you sure?"

Her eyes didn't break from Loki. "Positive. I want to talk to our prisoner. Alone."

"So I'm your prisoner?" Loki said with a sly smile which gained no reaction from her.

None of the men moved, they were unsure of the intentions of this man, or of the woman in charge for that matter. Their doubt caught her attention.

"Did I stutter?" Her voice rose.

With the warning, they all began moving their feet to exit the room. However, the man who punched Loki stayed, expectantly. As if he were a part of the "Us" when she said "Leave us."

But Loki noticed the girl's eyes turn towards the man, as he stood there foolishly. "Damien," she said. "I meant everyone." He looked at her surprised.

"I'm the boss' second hand man, I think I should be here."

"Well, the boss isn't here, is he?"

He clenched his jaw and nodded. "Guess you're right miss." Angry eyes darted towards Loki. "Yell if he starts to cause trouble."

"I think we'll be fine." Her lip twitched up, almost into a smirk. Loki noticed, which caused a slight smirk to grow on his face. With hesitation and embarrassment, the man named Damien finally stormed out in a huff. Leaving the two alone.

The girl grabbed a metal folded chair similar to what Loki was tied to. She opened the folded chair, placed it in front of Loki, and sat down across from him. Extending her legs in front of her, she leaned back into the chair with her arms crossed. She took a few moments to look at Loki, her eyes squinted as they scanned his being. "You're not a spy, are you?"

"Already you're more intelligent than the men working for you."

"They don't work for me." She stated.

"Are they here for pleasure then?"

"Fear. They're here out of fear."

This surprised Loki, even though the woman before him appeared fierce and respected, any of the men who were standing in the room before could have easily outmatched her. "And how do you strike terror into their hearts?"

"By being the daughter of a very dangerous man. They all work for my father."

Loki nodded slowly. "So they do work for you."

She pursed her lips and looked away. "See it how you want." Her head turned back to him. "But the way I see it, those same men who work for my father, are convinced you work for someone they really don't like. They might even be capable of killing you without any proof that you're even a threat. So if I were in your position, I'd try to avoid an unjustifiable death by saying why you're really here. Because something tells me, you're not here on purpose."

"And you assume that, how?"

"Call it a hunch."

Loki didn't believe it was a hunch. However, he did believe her statement about the men who are more than willing to kill him without reason. No answers came to his head. Even if he were to tell the truth, she wouldn't believe him.

There was something that interested him about the woman sitting opposite of him. He took a moment to observe her. Her hair was in a loose long braid that was an inch away from her hip. At first glance, you'd say her hair was a very light blonde, but Loki noticed it looked almost pure white. Yet there were dark roots seen on the top of her head. She had a small frame, yet held herself so fiercely. And there was blood. Blood staining the wrapping around her dainty hands.

His gaze planted on her hands. "Was that from the last person you interrogated?"

Her eyes followed his fixed look on her cut up hands. She looked back up at Loki. "I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be asking the questions."

"Ask away."

"The injuries on your face," she pointed to the door the men exited from. "They do that?"

"I believe the blow from that man who foolishly touched you was the only injury I received from your men."

"So they're not the only people you pissed off?"

Loki clenched his jaw as he thought of his last fight with Thor.

Full of rage.

In that moment he's never felt so much hatred for Thor before. The one he claimed to be his brother. Someone he thought he cared for. A thought occurred to Loki. They would most likely have an equal amount of hatred towards him if he were to return. Thor, Odin, Heimdall, Thor's friends, the people of Asgard. Perhaps even his mother.

"You could say that."

"Well, what would you say?"

"I would say you should release me before a series of wretched events happen."

"Another threat. How intimate. And I don't even know your name. What might it be I wonder." She said with a mock curiosity.

"I could say the same for you."

"I asked you first."

A scowl played on his lips. He was done playing games. "I am tired of these questions. Release me at once. You had stated yourself, I am not a threat."

"I said you weren't a spy. I never said you weren't a threat."

"Push me and I'll become one."

"Ooh, you tempt me, Loki."

He blinked in bewilderment. "You know who I am. How?!" His voice raised at the question.

She stood, sliding her chair back to its original place to the side. She sauntered towards a metal table, lifting herself up to sit on it. "Let's just say it'd be unwise to lie to me."

"So you read minds?"

She was slightly caught off guard by how quickly he figured it out "You don't seem surprised."

"I don't seem impressed is more like it."

An unexpected laugh was the reaction to Loki's comment. "How sweet of you."

"It never struck me to be….'sweet'."

"Well that's a shame because I'm the only reason you're still alive."

"Is that so?" Loki said teasingly.

Her tone changed as she looked at her black boots that swung above the concrete floor. "I've seen them slaughter innocents and they still sleep soundly at night. A few of them even kill for amusement sometimes. Frankly, I don't think some of them have the emotional capability to feel remorse." Her eyes met with the ceiling as her lips pursed. "Which is why my father hired them." Then her eyes met with Loki's. "Can't have an army feel sentiment when you order them to do inhumane things. You're only alive now because they always have me scan every person they drag in."

"Scan. So they use your sixth sense for their own gain. To do what, exactly?"

"Well, if you must know, I can tell when someone is lying. If they're guilty of certain crimes. But when they're not using me, they have me go on missions. _Favors_, as my father would usually call them."

There was a familiar look to her. Loki couldn't figure what it was. But the hopelessness in her eyes, it was recognizable. It was the same hopelessness he felt that caused him to let go of the Gungnir in Thor's hand. That same feeling caused him to truly see that nothing he did for Odin, for Asgard, was good enough. "You don't agree with what they do, yet here you are. Why is that?"

"You're not the only prisoner here." Her eyes appeared glossy.

Loki nodded, understanding. "Well...may I ask what my cell mate's name is?"

The girl smiled but it didn't last long before hesitation weighed her body. After a few moments, she finally answered Loki's question.

"Ayla."

"Pleasure to meet you Ayla, even under these circumstances."

"And you as well, Loki, I'd shake your hand but….you know."

"That's very amusing of you."

She lightly laughed, but switched to a serious tone instantly. "You're right. I don't agree with what they do but I gotta tell them something. The best I can do for you is to get you out of here with a hood over your head and they'll just throw you out of the car in the middle of nowhere. But you gotta help me out here."

"I have nothing to say. I have nothing to prove."

She nodded, understanding a little bit of why he was probably beaten up when they found him. Even tied up, bruised, and weak, his ego was in full control. Ayla wasn't surprised, a man's body breaks way before his pride. She hated it.

"Well…." she lifted herself up and jumped off the metal table. "Don't say I didn't try to help you." And with that, she stepped away from the stubborn man, arrogantly unaware of what waits for him.

"Ayla." He called out to her, causing her to stop. "What makes you so certain that I'm innocent?"

Her body turned, her arms crossed over her chest, and her lips were smiling. "Loki, something tells me you're far from innocent." Her smile faded. "But something also tells me you shouldn't be tied up in that chair." She turned and returned to her pace, however Loki's voice stopped her again.

"I will be released here. And when I am, don't think I won't hesitate to slit every one of your men's throats."

She only turned her head as she was two steps away from her door. "Like I said, not my men."

And with that she was gone, and Loki was alone. Bounded to this infuriating chair. He closed his eyes and breathed in. Now that he was completely alone, his magic can break through these bothersome restraints. But even as Loki recited spells in his head, nothing happened. No flash of green. No enchantment coursing through his veins. He couldn't even rely on his natural strength to break him free.

He was powerless.

Captured, probably soon to be tortured.

Usually if he had his full strength and working magic, none of these men would be a match for him. He could walk out of this place with bodies marking the path he took. But first, he needed a plan. However, the only thing he could think of was rest. Loki's eyes fluttered closed and exhaustion took over his body. Sleep soon consumed him and with that, he was out.


	2. Chapter 2

_Loki._

His name flew around Ayla's mind.

There was something…. spellbinding about him. The words he spat at the men in the room were venomous. If looks could kill, they would all have been dead at his feet just because of those menacing glares.

But maybe not her. Ayla saw anger flash through his eyes as he observed every single one of the men in that room. Yet when it came to her, his stare had softened. More out of curiosity rather than sympathy.

Ayla hated when they asked her to "interrogate" anyone that was captured. But once her father found out about her abilities, he instantly saw a use for her. And now whenever there was a hostage, she would immediately be called in. She'd decipher every word they said, scan every twitch they made, scrutinize every thought that passed through their minds. Even with a gift as rare and precious as hers, Ayla often wished it away. What others saw as a blessing, she titled as a curse. How many people have died because of a simple nod from her that they were lying? How many have been tortured because she couldn't read through them?

Too many, Ayla thought. The innocent have died, the guilty executed. Good or bad, they always had the same fate and she was tired of it. No. Not tired. She was absolutely enraged by it.

Her hands were gripping onto the cold metal sink in front of her. She winced, remembering the injuries on her knuckles that she caused herself. Her eyes gazed down at her hands. Loki was able to notice the blood. No one else here has.

Again, her mind drew back to Loki.

Something happened to him. Something broke him. She saw it. The astonishing, boiling, passionate rage. He definitely wasn't an innocent man. But yet...something inside her told her to keep looking. To dig into his mind. Out of all of the darkness she saw when looking into those piercing blue eyes, there was a flicker of light. It was small and it was silent. But it was there. And Ayla couldn't ignore it, not like she has before.

One thing was certain, when Loki said he'd kill every one of those men, she knew he was telling the truth. Yet, fear didn't strike her.

"Did our prisoner have anything interesting to say?"

Ayla looked up from the sink, into the mirror above it, just to see her father's second hand man standing in the door frame of her bathroom. Damien. The man who had punched Loki.

Only meeting his eyes for a second, she turned on the faucet, and removed the bloodstained wrapping from her hands. She had soothed her cuts with cold running water. "It was an interesting conversation." Her fingers trailed around the cuts, wiping and digging her finger tips to remove the dry blood on her skin.

The man crossed his arms over his broad chest, a questioning expression on his face. Straight locks of brown hair escaped from his naturally slicked back hair. "Do you know who he's working for? How he was able to break in?"

"I don't think he's the guy you're looking for Damien."

"So what? He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?" He started stepping towards where she stood.

"I think so."

He scoffed. "I don't believe it."

She sighed out of frustration. "Yeah, you never do."

His brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" At this point, he was standing right behind her.

Her body turned to face him. "The only thing you guys want to hear is that the person you captured is guilty. They deserve to be buried alive, burned to death, have their toes cut off, anything you guys do as your 'routine'. You believe everyone is an enemy and all you care to ask is what punishment should they get. Well, I'm telling you, this guy is not the one." She turned back to the sink, turning the faucet off, and grabbing a towel to scrub off the remaining blood on her hands. "And it'd be wise of you guys to let him go now, before you create more problems."

"Let him go? Let him go?! What suddenly made you so soft Ayla?"

In one swift, her palm flew towards his face, only to be met with his grip around her wrist. "Don't call me that. Know your place."

Her scowl was met with his smirk. "Then know your place. You provide us information, not your opinion."

As much as her blood boiled from the statement, he was right.

_You're not the only prisoner here_. That's what she said to Loki. She said it, because it was true. The only difference was that he was the one tied up, not her.

As Damien felt her relax her hand, he released his grasp. "You talk to him again tomorrow. Find out how he got in. Who he works for. Then maybe, I'll make his death quick and painless."

Another day. Another body killed. That's all it was to him. To these men.

To her father.

But, she won't allow it.

With a slight smile that didn't reach her eyes, she simply said, "Whatever you say."

* * *

_They were running into the woods, holding hands as they clung onto each other for dear life. The woman at Loki's side seemed to know where she was going but with all the thrill creating fireworks in her chest, she couldn't think straight. She was hoping Loki would have a plan. Any kind of plan would have been fine, but when she looked at his face, all she saw was pure fear. A look uncommon on his sharp features. _

_What could they do now? They were doomed._

_As they ran, Loki tripped over a stub, unfortunately dragging the girl along with him. The people they were running from, their footsteps were getting closer. Rustling bushes and snaps of twigs became louder. Was this it? The end? Their end? Everything they've gone through and this was the conclusion to it?_

_Loki had gotten up first but she was still on the ground, clutching her calf. Loki noticed and was straight on the ground again, wanting to hold her tightly to his chest and never let go but he kept his distance. His fingers itched to touch her but he was afraid he'd cause more harm. So he moved as close as his guilty conscious would let him. _

_"Are you alright?!" Despite her nod Loki placed his arms under her and lifted her off the ground. _

_"Loki, I'm fine." She whined but he proceeded to running. She wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed her face into his chest. She hoped the worst that was following them would go away with their worries but their mistakes must pay a price. _

_They were getting near. She heard their voices, felt their presence, and feared their rage. Her calf was bleeding, she felt the rushing breeze claw into the wound, causing it to sting. Then she felt Loki stop. At this time she lifted her head and noticed the situation. _

_They were surrounded._

_Suddenly the haunting figures all held something in their arms and pointed it right at Loki. They were rifles. _

_BANG!_

Loki swung forward, panting, sweating, and terrified. Heavy breaths consumed his entire body as his shoulders repeatedly expanded and clenched forward. The pounding of his heart being the only noise rattling through his ears. Locks of black hair hung over his face, dripping in his sweat. Soon enough, his head raised up. His eyes rapidly scanning the room he was in. High ceiling, bright lights, no windows, and a familiar girl sitting ten feet away from him.

She was sitting with her legs crossed on the metal table. Fear wasn't in her eyes, nor shock. She didn't seemed startled at all by Loki's sudden awaken. The only thing he could see from her reaction was curiosity.

He soon felt the restrain of his wrists that were bound, and the memories of the night before were sinking in.

"Rough night?" The girl asked.

Loki was irked by her wit, giving her only the response of a glare. His breathing soon regulated back to normal. "Have you finally decided that releasing me was your only option?"

"If only it were that easy." She stated softly, a slight morning rasp to her voice. She had awakened not too long ago, her hair was released from the braid she had the previous night. Long white hair cascading around her body, ending in soft curls. "They gave me more time with you."

"More time?" Loki repeated. He grinded his teeth has he growled the next words. "More time?! I do not need more time. I need to leave this dreadful place. Now!"

Ayla didn't flinch from him raising his voice. If anything, she was too used to it. Over time, she had grown to be patient, but when pushed, she was short-tempered. Right now though? She was being patient with the stubborn man. A sigh escaped her lips.

"Loki," she said, "How did you end up here? On our grounds. Unconscious."

"Why don't you read my mind and figure it out yourself."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Enlighten me then, how does your gift work exactly?"

"You expect me to trust you with that information when you can't even tell me how you got here?"

Loki looked at her. He could sense a slight desperation in her voice, even if she was hiding it with a coolness that would fool anyone else. But Loki observed people in ways others couldn't. She was desperate. He could see that. But why? Perhaps if he played her game, he could reveal more from her. However, in order for her to do that, he had to be willing to reveal more about himself.

Loki's head fell back, whipping locks of black hair to the side.

"I had fallen from the sky." He said it so simple, so casual. He gave it a moment before looking back at Ayla, expecting either a reaction of amusement or one of annoyance. But he got neither. Instead, he received a nod as she moved forward with her next question.

"Do you work for anyone?"

"I only pay loyalties to myself."

Another nod of understanding. Now questions ran through Loki's mind. Did she truly believe him? Was it that easy? Maybe it was wise for Loki not to lie to her, because telling the truth seems to be benefitting him. That's a first.

Her next question was more for herself rather than the men demanding answers. She had asked it slowly, with concern edged into her voice.

"What happened to you?"

Loki stared at her. Jade colored eyes meeting his blue ones. What could he say? He was betrayed. He was ripped away from his entire world, from the only thing he knew. He was relinquished of every title given to him. A prince. An Asgardian. A brother. A son. A king.

All he was now, was a monster.

"What happened to me is none of your concern." A flash of anger passed his eyes. Ayla clearly saw it. And what she saw with it was revenge.

"You were betrayed." She spoke slowly. It almost pained her to see such rage in his eyes. "You seek revenge. I see that hatred you have in your eyes. It's pointed to someone specific isn't it?"

"You see all of that? Just by my words?"

"By everything. Your looks, your mind, your words. Everything. Yet, as dangerous of a man you are, there's something telling me to…. Well I don't know exactly. It's just something."

Loki became more curious to this _ability_ she possessed. "My name." He said. "You had stated it so freely, as if it were common knowledge. How did you know it?"

"Sometimes when I look at people a name just comes to my head. But those are just with glances, first looks, and usually nothing more."

The word _usually_ caught Loki's attention. "And towards me? Was it nothing more?"

Ayla looked down, fumbling with her fingers. He had noticed another wrapping around her hands, this one white and clean. Not bloodstained and dirty like the one he had pointed out last night. This woman who seemed fierce and carefree yesterday, was hesitant and worrisome today.

Finally after a few moments of silence, the girl decided to speak. "With you, it took longer. More analyzing, more searching. With you," She looked up to meet his eyes. "I see so much, but yet it's all so vague. Usually when I look into a person's eyes, I see exactly what has happened to them. Their memories are open for me to see. But with you, I don't see much, yet...I feel. Whatever you're feeling, I can feel it too. And that's the unusual part for me."

The words she said, Loki let them sink in. A connection? Is that what was saving him? This girl had talked about the men working for her father with such sorrow. The fact that they killed many in their path was something she was used to, but it didn't mean it didn't affect her. Did she feel with the others as well? Did she feel the fear instilled in their heart or did she merely see the visions of why they were guilty? Something in Loki made him want to be the only one. The only one she could connect feelings with. The only one that furrowed her brow in confusion for not letting her see what would usually be so easy for her.

This amused him. Yet put him on edge at the same time. He was vulnerable but remained guarded.

"Your tone almost sounds hopeful as you speak of these feelings." Loki said.

She smirked. "And what would I possibly be hoping for?"

"An escape." He said simply.

Her amused smile faded. Hope wasn't in her vocabulary, it hasn't been in a long time. Hope led to severe disappointment. Severe damage she refused to go through. An escape was impossible.

"Hope is for children."

"Is that not what you are? A child brought here against her will? The child of a dangerous man who holds her here because he has found a use to her? You were merely a child, whose innocence was taken away. Now certain words cause your stomach to churn. Hope. Love. Fairness. Faith." He had taken a pause before smirking. "Feelings."

At that moment, the door opened, and four men marched to where Loki was seated. The men had placed their hands on the chair and dragged it with Loki struggling to resist their taking.

"What do you think you're doing? Where are you taking him?" Ayla asked authoritatively.

"It's none of your concern Harley." One of the men said.

Harley? Loki came to the impression that her name had been Ayla. Had she lied to him while asking him to be honest with her? And Loki was the one they were suspicious of.

She quickly stepped in front of them, causing them to stop their pace, and causing Loki to turn his head, meeting eyes with the woman.

"You wanted me to talk to him, so that's what I'm doing. I'm getting the information you guys want."

"Damien wants to attend to him personally."

"Well, Damien isn't in charge when I'm around. Now return this man back to where he was and leave us so I can continue my job."

The men hesitated. Officially, the only person who can give them orders around here was Damien, the one who was truly in charge. Yet the men feared what the girl would say to her father if they disobeyed. Damien may be the boss here, but Ayla's father was the true overseer. And not one you wanted to piss off either.

The silence and hesitation went on for a few moments before Loki was the one who decided to break the tension.

"I don't mean to intrude, but if I were in either of your positions, I'd listen to her."

It took everything in Ayla to not smirk right there in front of the men holding Loki's chair. She didn't smirk, but she did speak. "I'll talk to Damien myself. We'll compromise on what needs to be done with the prisoner."

One of the men on Loki's left let out a sigh, and turned to speak to the others. "Bring him back."

And with that said, they did exactly what Ayla had told them to do. They placed Loki back to his original spot, and they had left the two alone. Once alone, Loki decided to be the one to question her.

"Harley?"

The woman had been pacing back and forth, running her hands through her silver hair. Loki admired the difference of color that he usually saw in mortals. But he could tell that her natural hair was darker, based on the roots above her head that contrasted against the white.

With her eyes closed, she let out a deep audible breath. "Here they refer to me as Harley Blake."

"Why tell me a different name?"

She sauntered to the wall in front of Loki, sliding down against it, eventually sitting on the concrete ground. "I told you my real name. I was born Ayla Sawyer. Blake is my father's last name. Sawyer was my mother's."

"And what of her?"

"She died."

There was a silence. Loki felt something for her. A tiny bit of sorrow. But that was diminished quickly.

"And now here you are. Dreaming of the life you had before. Yet, you do not do a single thing to return to it."

"You don't think I've thought of that? You think I'm the first to consider leaving? The first to want out of this lifestyle? The one full of murder, violence, and solitude. No one escapes from here. Not by their own choice. And you're ignorant to believe you can escape here."

"You are ignorant to believe I cannot. Tell me. All of the rage you feel radiating off of me. Do you truly believe I will stay in this state? The title of a hostage? Of a poor victim who complains of their situation yet does nothing to change it. You humans are so pathetic. You'd rather wallow in your self-pity than attempt at changing the cause of it."

"I am not a victim." She spat.

"No. You just pretend to be one. A woman with your ability is rare, I'll admit to that. It might even be admiring. But do not use it against me then declare that you are the only one keeping me alive. Am I just another body you don't want on your conscience?"

Ayla's lips parted, but a response didn't come out.

What if he was right? What if she _was_ wallowing in self-pity and not doing anything about it.

"And what do you suggest I do, Loki?"

"Fight. Back."

Fight back? Could she fight back? Could she simply put her foot down and get her way? Perhaps when she does, they'll consider the numerous times she has obeyed their wish and command. But she wasn't stupid. She wasn't naive enough to believe they had a soft spot for her. But with Loki's suggestion, she does question: Would her father listen to her? Simply because she was his daughter? His only child?

In her moments of silence, occupied with new found questions, Loki's voice broke her thought pattern.

"That man Damien?"

Her light green eyes darted towards Loki. "What about him?" She asked callously.

"What's his status here? He barks orders, yet whenever you open your mouth these men hesitate."

"Damien was appointed to be in charge, only here though. He's one of the few men that my father trusts. Usually what Damien says goes, but then I walk in and say something different. They usually obey me."

"Out of fear?"

"Out of fear."

A look of mischief came to Loki's face as he asked his next question. "And what is his status with you? He appears to believe he can be comfortable around you, until you prove him wrong. Quiet gracefully, might I add." Loki's memory of the night before widened his smirk. But the female mortal didn't look amused as she stated her next words.

"I did not have, do not have, or ever will have a relationship with Damien, or any of the men here for that instance."

"You state that more passionately than most women would."

"Yeah well, forgive the cliché, but, I'm not like most women."

Loki bit his bottom lip. "Indeed, you are not."

Ayla rolled her eyes, she wasn't amused. "Being captive in a place full of men, you really think I'm not immune to flirting? Almost every man here has failed at interesting me."

"As you are not like most women, I am not like most men." Even with the statement, Loki decided not to reveal to what extent. His face grew serious. "Now, what more do I need to answer in order to be released from here?"

The girl on the floor casually stretched her arms forward, a yawn escaping her lips as she did so. "Well, we know you're not a spy, but if pushed you can easily become a threat. You got here by falling from the sky. Your name is the same of a Norse God that is known for causing mischief and for lying." A chill involuntarily shivered down Loki's spine. Ayla continued. "Oh, and you stated that when we do let you go, you'd have no problem killing every single one of the men here. So to sum it all up, it's going to take a little more convincing for them to let you go."

She stood and walked towards him. "I'll have someone bring you three meals a day, and I'll try to get them to move you to a more...comfortable spot." How comfortable could it be under these circumstances? High tension did seem to be a step towards relaxing.

"I do not plan on staying. I hope you know that."

"Things don't always go as planned. So you might as well get situated. Is there anything else you need?"

His dark chuckle echoed throughout the large room. "Oh I'm as snug as can be."

She rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room.

Loki did not plan on staying. The girl may have lost hope in any plans of escaping, but Loki refused to give up just because a mere mortal did. She avoided problems with these so called _murderous_ men, but what she didn't know was that Loki was a murderer himself. Not only that, but a God. Ayla may see revenge in his eyes, but she truly underestimated him. A darkness was coursing through his being. He wanted revenge. He craved it. The thought of blood on his hands was a sweet image. The only satisfaction he wanted.

Now, Loki would play the role of prisoner. But only for now.


	3. Chapter 3

After her morning of questioning Loki, Ayla attended to her usual everyday errands. She then decided to spend the rest of her day training, Some of the _favors_ her father would ask of her required physical training. These missions usually involved fighting, which her father encouraged that she should be skillful at.

Over the years, she was able to learn how to fight, but she would never forget how challenging it was in the beginning process. With no experience fighting before, she would often feel incredibly frustrated when she was outmatched, injured or too weak. But now? She was able to hold her own by having a special skill set. Yet after years of wanting improvement, now she just sees it as another way they could use her.

Her body leaned back onto her soft, red covers, each muscle lightly shifting as she relaxed herself onto her bed. As her body was set in place, her mind started to drift off, fully taking in how exhausted she was. The night before wasn't kind to her. After one nightmare, sleep became distant, darkening the circles under her bright eyes.

Being in an environment as stressful as this one, insomnia became a nightly routine for Ayla.

But tonight, she forced herself to remember the simpler times. The times she felt happy. The times when she was with her mother.

Soon enough, Ayla was able to drift to sleep.

* * *

_The familiar almond-like musty smell of books entered through Ayla's nose. A bright light coursed through the window of the room she was in. Soft fabric brushing the skin of her fingertips as she turned each page of her book. Her stomach met the floor, her feet swayed in the air, and her chin was placed in the palm of her hand. _

_"And what book are we reading today, Ayla Bear?"_

_"Greek Gods." The child stated without looking up at her mother. "I like Iris, she's the goddess of rainbows."_

_The woman standing at the door chuckled, amused by her daughter's innocence. She would often find her little girl in this room, the study, where numerous shelves of books were found. _

_"Mommy?" The girl spoke._

_"Yes, my love?"_

_"Are Greek Gods real?"_

_"Well, some believe they are real. Lots of people believe in only one God. And sometimes you find people who don't believe in any God at all."_

_"Do you believe they're real?"_

_Ayla's mother smiled from her daughter's curiosity. She sauntered over to one of the book shelves, and observed the books above her. Her finger traced across each book until finally, she wrapped her fingers around one with a thick spine. She tugged the it from it's spot, and opened to one of the first pages. Ayla closely watched as her mother scanned through the pages of a book the little girl never thought to pull out herself. _

_The woman then sat on the floor with her daughter, tucking her feet under her while Ayla sat up and loomed over the book. There was one gold, italic word that caught the child's eyes._

_Asgard. _

_Her mother spoke as Ayla's curious eyes noticed the colorful pictures of what appeared to be a golden kingdom. "Many generations in our family didn't believe there was only one God. They believed in multiple Gods, but they weren't Greek. They were Norse Gods, of a beautiful place called Asgard. They were spiritual beings that Scandinavians believed were real."_

_"You're Scandinavian, right mommy?" _

_"You are as well Ayla. Your ancestors had certain beliefs that not too many people follow today."_

_"So what are Norse Gods like?"_

_Her mother flipped the wide page over. "Well...There's Odin," she said as she pointed towards an image of an old man with a long beard. "He's the ruler of Asgard, he's known for wisdom, royalty, healing, war, and many other things. He is also the husband of Frigga. We named one of the days of the week by her, Friday? Frigg's Day?" _

_Ayla nodded, and then pointed at the picture of the older man. "He looks mean." _

_Her mother laughed as she brushed through her daughter's long dark hair. She continued teaching her of the Norse Gods. "The most well known one is Thor, he's the God of Thunder and Lightning."_

_Ayla pointed to the weapon in his hand. "He fights with a hammer?"_

_"He does."_

_One picture of a certain God caught Ayla's attention. "Who is that?"_

_"That is Loki, he's the God of Mischief and Lies. He often brings trouble to the rest of the Gods."_

_"Why does he do that?"_

_"No one really knows, Ayla Bear. Maybe they saw him as an outcast, but that's another story for another day. Why don't you go outside and call your aunt Sylvia in? I'll make us lunch and then we could read more about Norse Mythology later. Does that sound good?" The child nodded enthusiastically making her mother laugh. "Alright, go on then."_

_"Okay mommy!" Ayla ran out of the room into the long hallway with wooden walls, and outside towards the gardens where her aunt usually was. "Aunt Sylvia!?" She called out, however, before she could reach the bushes of the garden, her surroundings started to change. She saw herself back inside, only it wasn't inside her own home._

_Ayla saw the trees shifting into tall wide marble columns. The bright sky transforming into a high golden ceiling. She had never been here before, yet, somehow, there was a familiar feeling to it. _

_"Loki."_

_The child turned to see a towering man dressed in golden robes and armor, and a gold patch over one of his eyes._

_"Do you know Thor's whereabouts?" The child shook their head. Looking disappointed, the man proceeded forward into the grand hall. "Perhaps the guards have seen him." _

_"Father." Ayla called out, except, it wasn't Ayla's voice, it was the voice of a younger boy. "Mother showed me a new trick, it involves shape shifting, I can turn anything into anything! An apple into a bird, perhaps a bird into a fox, and then the fox could turn back into an apple."_

_"Loki, do not waste your time with silly tricks. You should be training to fight, just like your brother. Speaking of, he might be training with his friends near the gardens."_

_As the man walked away, despair etched into Loki's young features. Another accomplishment going unnoticed by his father. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder._

_ "What troubles you my son?"_

_He turned to see his mother Frigga, standing there with soft concern. Soft golden curls surrounding her angelic face. _

_"I wanted to show father what you taught me yesterday. I practiced all of last night and was able to turn an apple into a bird, but he didn't seem too interested."_

_"Loki, my dear," She wrapped her hand around her son's and led him down the hall. "Your father may not fully understand the accomplishments of sorcery. But, do not let that discourage you. It is still a wonderful art, that you, my son, have a natural talent for."_

_A smile spread across his face as he looked up at his mother. "Do you truly believe that mother?!" _

_"I do." She returned the smile and squeezed his tiny hand. "Now young man, what was it that I heard about you staying up all night practicing?"_

_Uh oh. "Well, I couldn't sleep because I was too excited, and I wanted to put my time to use. Because I admire you not only as a teacher but as my gracious mother."_

_She raised an eyebrow as she looked down at her sneaky son. "That practice should come into good use when I teach you how to shapeshift with your own body."_

_"There's a spell for that?!"_

_"Indeed, my love, there are many spells that I will gladly teach you." _

* * *

Loki eyes opened slowly as the memory of his childhood faded to the back of his mind. After a nap, his body still felt incredibly sore from sitting and sleeping in that chair for about twelve hours. Eventually, Ayla's request was delivered, and Loki was moved to a cell. Not exactly what he deemed as comfortable, but it was a step up from being tied up in a chair. They had brought him a tray of food, which still stayed in the corner of the cell, untouched.

He remained laying across the metal bed that was chained to the wall. An arm behind his head and one laying across his stomach. His long legs bending at the knee as they dangled from the metal bed.

The memory of when he was a child surprised him. Those dreams had stopped years ago; then again, he was no longer in Asgard, so they truly were a great distance away. The memory of Asgard was just that - simply a memory, no longer his everyday environment.

Another thing he found odd was the beginning of the dream. As he had drifted to sleep, he did not awake in the dream state as himself, but as Ayla. A younger version of her, with her mother, who was teaching her about Norse Mythology. Which could also explain how she knew the origin of his name.

As Ayla was with her mother, Loki noticed that she was...happy. He hadn't seen her father, nor was there a mention of him. Only a mention of one named Sylvia. Her aunt, apparently.

Another curious thing caught Loki's attention. Ayla's mother believed Norse Gods to be real? Well, she wasn't far off, Loki supposed. He was living proof that they were real. He was surprised that there were still mortals who passed down stories of Norse mythology to their children.

He was also surprised to dream of Ayla. Loki knew his dream was memory, but was hers a memory? And how did the memory get into Loki's head?

Suddenly, as he recalled that his dream referenced his magic, an idea came to Loki's head. He stood from the metal bed. His feet sauntered towards the metal bars keeping him hostage. He raised his hands and softly traced his fingers across the bars. His eyes closed as his mind began to chant a spell but when he opened his eyes….nothing had happened.

He was still powerless.

Loki scowled and let out a frustrated sigh. How could his powers be gone? Just like that? Was it the fall between realms? Was he physically too weak?

Soon he had heard the doors to this underground chamber open. It was another guard bringing Loki another tray of food. Ayla did say three meals a day, and this was only the second one to arrive. The tray had different colored foods of diverse textures. None of which looked appealing to Loki. There was also plastic covering tightly wrapped around the tray. The guard had turned it and slid it between the bars.

"Bon appetit." The guard said mockingly. "Enjoy your mush, jailbird."

Loki gave it a questioning look. "There appears to be something wrong with it."

The guard shared the same questioned look. "Food is food. What the hell could be wrong with it?"

Loki stepped closer until the tray was by his feet. "Come take a look, it appears to be an annoying insect of some sort."

The guard, out of curiosity, walked closer to Loki, his feet touching the metal bars that stood between them. Suddenly, Loki aggressively grasped his hands around the man's shirt, and violently pulled him forward. The guard's head hitting the metal bars in the process. Loki released the man, seeing him fall to the ground, unconscious. "Mere mortal." He muttered under his breath

He heard a gasp ten feet away from the cell, causing him to turn his head. It was Ayla. And judging by the expression on her face, she saw everything.

"What did you do?!" She ran over to the unconscious man, kneeled down and checked his pulse.

"It is a mild injury."

"Mild?! You banged his head against metal bars and now he's unconscious! How do you see that as mild?"

"Where I come from I do."

"I'm pretty sure they still don't condone violence on Asgard."

Loki's eyes widened. "How did you know I'm from Asgard?" She ignored Loki's question as she attended to the man who had collapsed onto the floor. "Answer me!" Loki yelled.

"I'm sorry but I'm a little occupied with fixing your problem."

"Leave him for dead. Answer my question!"

She gave him perilous glare, but her look changed to desperate concern when she felt the man shift around by her feet. He was just coming to. "What happened? Where am I? And why the hell does my head hurt so much?" Ayla's gaze shifted from him, to Loki, to a chair that was placed in front of the cell, giving Ayla an idea.

"You fell asleep." She blurted out.

The dazed man looked at her questioningly. "I fell asleep? Down here?"

"Yep, you were assigned to watch the prisoner. But you fell asleep and accidentally hit your head. I was watching the cameras and saw the whole thing." She glared at Loki but then turned back to the man. "I'll switch shifts with you. You should get your head checked." The man nodded absentmindedly and stood, with help from Ayla. Soon enough, he began striding towards the door, rubbing his forehead where he was injured.

Once he had left, Ayla turned to the man behind bars.

"What did hurting him achieve?!"

"He annoyed me."

"What are you? A child?"

"Answer my question." He gritted through his teeth.

"I'll take that as a yes." She muttered under her breath.

"Ayla!"

"What?! What do you want me to say?! I saw something in you? You look like you could be from Asgard? Which is a place I've never been to so how could I possibly know how someone from Asgard could look like."

"You've never been but you were there, weren't you? In your dream."

She froze. "How did you-"

"I had the same dream. One memory of yours and one of mines."

"That's not possible."

"Is it not?"

"I usually see visions of the people I read, not the other way around."

Loki's face grew determined. "You had an aunt named Sylvia."

"Anyone could look that up and see my family records."

"You loved reading as a child."

"Lucky guess."

Loki's lips quirked into a smile, a soft smile with sincerity behind it. "Your mother, she called you Ayla Bear."

Her body stood perfectly still. No one knew that. Only, her, her mother, and her aunt. Time stood still for Ayla as her mother's sweet face came to her mind.

Despite what Ayla just witnessed when Loki assaulted the man before him, she walked forward and wrapped her hands around the metal bars. "What else did you see?" Her voice was almost inaudible.

Loki also walked forward, enclosing his fingers around the metal bar, right above where Ayla had placed her hands. "I saw your mother Ayla. The life you had with her, before… this. You seemed truly happy."

Her bright green eyes gazed towards the floor. "My mom was everything I knew." Now her jaded colored eyes met Loki's piercing blue ones. "It seems like your mother was the same for you. She made you feel like you were her whole world. Didn't she?"

He let out an exhale. "We are both reminiscing of a simpler life we once had. A life we can never return to. An existence with our loved ones. But it's all gone. For me especially."

"You can't return to your home? To your mother?"

"My mother believes me to be dead. The entirety of Asgard believes me to be dead."

"Why would they believe that?"

"That is a complicated story for another encounter."

She smiled. Her mother said something similar when she had asked about the Norse God Loki - the same Loki standing in front of her, currently behind bars. She almost couldn't believe that the Gods her mother believed in were real. Everyone had claimed her to be insane, even Ayla's father. As sweet as her mother was, her fate wasn't as kind. Ayla grimaced as she reminisced.

It wasn't fair. None of what happened to Ayla or her mother were fair. They both deserved to live a long healthy life alongside each other. But that dream was ripped away, from both of them.

"Ayla." Loki's airless voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Hmm?" Her eyes were distant, but Loki's finger softly lifting her chin up brought her attention back to him.

"You now know who I truly am. We had the same dream. You're able to sense exactly how I am feeling." Slowly, he lifted one of her hands from the bar she was holding, and placed it on his chest. Torn leather in between actual skin contact. "Tell me. What do you feel now?"

Her eyes blinked in wonderment as they traveled from his eyes, down to his chest where his hand laid on top of hers. As she focused only on him, she was able to identify different waves of sentiment. Emotional pain grasped her heart. She felt a desire coursing through her stomach, a certain longing. She couldn't place what exactly was it that Loki was longing for, but she could sense he has attempted at retrieving it, only to have failed. Reflecting desperation etched on her features. There was a deep root of dereliction. His feeling of abandonment and loneliness almost brought tears to her eyes. Loki has suffered loss, but not physically, emotionally. The most complicated way to lose someone was when they were fully alive. He mourned over the living.

A tear cascaded down her cheek. "Loki-"

"What do you feel Ayla?"

"Pain. So much pain."

He closed his eyes and subconsciously tightened his grip on her hand. "Is that the only thing you see?"

Ayla kept her eyes shut as it improved her focus. She felt cold tears dampening her eyelashes. Was all of the darkness she just felt the only thing there? As her mind extended, she felt, it wasn't. There was something hiding in the corner of his dark bruised soul. Something contrasting the negative emotions. What appeared to be the remains of a sort of light. Ayla recognized it as hope.

Loki felt hope.

Yet, that hope she sensed wasn't only a feeling, it was a face. A rather familiar face. Ayla recognized it to be her own. Her eyes immediately shot open.

"I saw me."

Apparently that was exactly what Loki wanted to hear, because he grew a genuine small smile. She had only seen his smiles of mischief, but this one? This look of softness? She felt herself grow fond of it.

"Why Loki? What are you trying to tell me?"

"You had said the previous day that we are connected. It is only now that I believe that to be true. To what extent, I am not sure. But we have both suffered greatly, unfairly. And we both are in need of each other."

Her defensive guard sprung up. She turned away from him. "I'd prefer to not need anybody."

"I would say the same. But given the circumstances, I believe I must swallow my pride, and look to receive help from a certain exquisite psychic."

"You can claim to need me but I do not need you."

"I'm willing to prove you wrong."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

Loki turned away from her to sit on the rusty metal bench. His body leaned forward as he placed his elbows on his knees. "Through that hope you saw."

"The hope you feel towards me? What exactly does it mean?"

"It is the hope that you'll come to your senses. You'll release me from here while also gaining a victory of your own. You want out of this lifestyle you've been forced to live under. I am your only way out."

"And how do I know you're not just using me?"

"I am using you." His blunt statement took her back. "There is no point in hiding my intentions, they are clear as day, especially towards you. Observing the relationship between us, I have more reason to not trust you."

"Well if you don't trust me then there is no point in collaborating."

"I did not say I didn't trust you. I just have more reason not to. My plans are quite simple. You help me leave this place either by convincing your higher ups to release me or by joining me in a plan to escape. You are far more knowledgeable of what's to be expected. You know our current surroundings better. I do not give trust easily. But I have presented you, not only my intentions, but my soul as well. All I ask of you is a consideration. Consider what I have presented to you. Return to me with an answer." He returned to his original spot of laying down. "I shall wait here."

She crossed her arms and smirked at him. His ego was through the roof, but he said it himself. He's willing to swallow his pride. Something in the corner of his cell caught her eye. Two untouched trays of food.

"You know, if you're planning on making this grand escape, you might want to get food into your system. You're going to need your strength." She started heading towards the door before stopping to request something of Loki. "Do me a favor and try not to assault every person you encounter."

"No promises. You might want to destroy any evidence found on those cameras you spoke of earlier."

"I turned the camera off before coming down here. I didn't want them to see or hear our encounter."

This caused Loki to lean up, propping his body by his elbows. "You're quite the sneaky one." He laid back down. "I like it."

"Oh shut up." Her comment only caused him to widen his smirk. He was getting used to being amused by her. She excited the door with a smile, unnoticed by Loki.

If he was going to be stuck in this place, then he was definitely planning on having fun with her.

Ayla on the other hand, wasn't amused as she leaned against the door she had exited from. Loki's offer terrified her.

An escape?

If an escape was possible, how would she even do it? How would _they _even do it?

She knew their codes, each entrance and exit. She knew all of their weaknesses, but was she capable of fighting the men that work for her father if it came down to it? Maybe that's where Loki could come in. With full strength, he could fight through all of their obstacles.

She shook her head at her own foolish thoughts. Her hands rubbed down her face as she lightly groaned. None of this felt right. Helping her father cause harm to innocents, helping Loki fight

against the true criminals. Neither option felt right.

Yet, helping herself didn't even seem like an option.


	4. Chapter 4

"A Scandinavian Prince?"

"Yep." Ayla nodded. Damien was currently doing pull ups as they had the conversation of how her questioning with Loki went.

"So we're not supposed to lay a single hand on him."

"Nope. It'll cause a war against all of Scandinavia ...supposedly."

He released his grip from the hanging metal bar, dropping to the floor. Strolling towards her, he held a suspicious stare. "And where exactly in Scandinavia is our prisoner from?"

"Asplace. He's from Asplace, Scandinavia. A very quiet but powerful part of the country. Technically he's the son of one of the most influential people there, but they keep their family life quite private. There aren't any traces of him but they are important figures." With a few details changed here and there, Ayla wasn't exactly lying. She was just expanding the truth, at least that's how she was trying to view it as.

His eyebrow quirked. "And he's not lying?"

"Why do you have me do the job if you're just going to ask that?"

After a pause Damien spoke again. "That would explain his weird get up, and funny accent, I guess." Ayla sighed inaudibly, relieved of the lack of knowledge from the man in front of her. He continued. "Still, he knows too much for us to just let him go."

He sauntered towards the different sizes and weights of barbells, Ayla hurriedly followed. She tried hiding the edge in her voice. "Damien, just keeping him here brings us more problems. Soon enough, his people are going to be looking for him. The sooner we let him go, untouched, the better."

"Let's see what the boss says."

Ayla cringed at the casual mention of her father. "He would agree with me."

"What is it about him? This _prince, _that interests you so much."

"I'm not interested in him," That was a lie, but she didn't need to say that out loud. "I'm giving you exactly what you wanted, information."

"We can discuss this later. How's your form been?" Damien walked over to the mats on the floor, in the middle of the private gym at their compound.

She followed as she bit the inside of her cheek irritated. "It's fine. I've been training myself."

Suddenly, in one swoop, Damien's leg swooshed under Ayla, striking both of her ankles, which caused her to fall on her back. A gasp of air punched out of her lungs. He stood tall over her as she winced and rubbed her sore shoulder. "Not hard enough I see." He stated.

Her hands ran across her face as she spoke with a strained and annoyed voice. "I'm really not in the mood for this right now."

Before she knew it, Damien was on top of her, his hands roughly pulling her hands away from her face, then pinning them down to the mat under them. "You need to be sharp and ready for attack at any given moment, Blake. Otherwise, your vulnerability will get you killed."

"I guess that would be a tragedy for you guys. You wouldn't be able to use me as a weapon anymore." Ayla pulled her knee up, aggressively hitting Damien's side. He groaned and slanted to the side, allowing her to wrap a leg around him, rolling him over only to push him down on the ground. Ayla was on top of him with a hand on his throat. He grasped her wrists and struggled as his strained voice tried to speak.

"I tried seeing you differently, but you were too frigid for my liking."

Releasing her grip, Ayla immediately stood, then kicked his side, earning another groan from Damien. "And you're too much of a pig for my liking." She took a few steps forward, but then Damien instantly grabbed one of her ankles, pulling it and causing her to fall on the ground again. A whimper escaping her. With a groan, she turned herself, laying on her back.

He pushed himself up and holding up by his elbows. Slightly loomed over her. "Come on, Blake. You're surrounded by men all the time. You never get tempted? You never feel sexual tension rising in your body?"

In one quick movement she swung her leg up to kick the side of his head. He fell over with a short yell. Ayla took this chance of vulnerability to climb on his back and pull his arm behind him. "I would never be attracted to a murderer like you."

"It's part of the job sweetheart. When are you going to accept that and become one of us?" She harshly pulled his arm further back, causing him to wince. But then, she finally let go, and got off of Damien's. He sat up and rubbed his arm where Ayla's hands were gripped.

Fatigued and irritated, she stood before him, wiping sweat from her forehead. "I'll never become one of you." In a huff, she darted towards the door quickly, only being stopped by another one of her father's men, Hector. He had a file in his hand.

"Harley Blake. You have an assignment."

"Give it to someone else. I'm done for today."

"No can do. By your father's specific orders, he wants you to do the job."

She let out an annoyed audible sigh. "Lovely. Just what I need, another search and questioning right now." Her hands yanked the file from the man's hands. She felt Damien's presence behind her but she paid him no attention.

"Actually, there's a bounty placed on this one. Just a straight kill, no questioning."

"That can't be right. My father only assigns me to search for people. To interrogate and investigate. Get answers. He's never put me on an actual bounty mission."

Damien spoke behind her. "Guess you'll be like us sooner than you thought." It mustered all of her strength not to turn around and punch him right there in his smug face. She could feel his stupid smirk radiating behind her.

She opened the file to reveal a few photographs of the target, papers with an abundance of information; some lined out with black marker; and a photo of what appeared to be a weapon. She furrowed her brow when she realized it was a bow and arrow.

"Clint Barton. Male. Agent of SHIELD. Also known as Hawkeye." Even as she said the information of the target out loud, it didn't clear up the intention her father had. "Why him?"

The man in front of her spoke. "He's actually a common target. One of SHIELD's best agents. Typically uses a bow and arrow as his weapon. So I'd keep a close eye on that. Apparently someone bid in one million just to see this guy dead."

"Who's the bidder?"

"Anonymous."

"Well that comforts me." She examined the photo of this Clint Barton. He looked like any other regular guy, despite that there was an intensity in his eyes. "Family?"

"There isn't any record of one."

She swiped the folder closed and pushed her way through, exiting the room. As she proceeded down the hall, the two men followed. "I'm not taking this target." she said, "You guys are very aware that this isn't my field. Find someone else."

Hector's pace quickened to Ayla's speed. "There isn't anyone available right now and the hit needs to be taken care of as soon as possible. This agent, Barton, is in New Mexico right now where SHIELD is handling an unknown case. Soon enough, once they find whatever they're looking for, they'll be on the road and Barton will be gone."

"Damien can do the hit."

"Your father wants you to do it."

She turned rapidly, causing both men to cease their steps. "Why? Why specifically me? This is one of the top secret agents of SHIELD. Probably their most dangerous and most trusted people, and my father wants me to take him out on my first bounty mission?"

Hector spoke with desperation. "I'm just following orders Harley, you know that."

Something wasn't right. A feeling of unease caused apprehension to grow in her chest. There was more to this. Ayla's father never acted on anything without a true motive. She learned not to trust his actions. Not to trust any spontaneity from him.

"When am I to leave?" She asked.

"Tonight."

After a few long glances between the three standing in the hallway, Ayla decided to give them an answer.

A long shaky sigh escaped her. "Give me a few hours and I'll be ready to go."

Hector gave her a worried soft look, but nodded without question. "Take your time."

With that said, Ayla proceeded down the hall, turning the corner, no longer in the presence of the two experienced hitmen.

Hector stood with concern on his face, meanwhile, Damien couldn't have been more pleased.

"Finally, daddy's little girl gets a taste of her own medicine."

"Leave her alone Damien. You can't tell me you weren't scared shitless when you got your first assignment to kill. I remembered you threw up right after you came back from the mission."

Damien's content smug look faded. "She puts herself on such a high pedestal, claiming she's the better one of all of us just because she has no blood on her hands. Well, once she feels that rush, the adrenaline of the job, then she'll feel ashamed for judging any of us."

Hector, being in this operation for years, has never heard someone describe the job as being a rush. It unsettled him. "You're psychotic."

"We're hit men. We're all sick on some level." Damien walked past him, grazing his shoulder. Hector's fellow _coworker_ left, unaware that he went to follow Ayla's trail.

* * *

Loki laid on his metal bed in his cell. Bored out of his mind. How could he have stooped so low? He was the Prince of Asgard, then momentarily a King. But now? He was just a prisoner under the watch of meager humans. Every hour or so, a mortal would walk in, saunter down the hall passed Loki's cell, then eventually returning their way to exit. It was quite annoying. But they haven't killed him yet, at least he could see that as a good sign.

Just as Loki was close to pulling his hair out just to have something to do, Ayla stormed into the prison cells. Appearing exasperated. She planted herself right before his cell. Loki made no effort to move, even his eyes remained gazing numbly at the flickering lightbulb that swung over his chamber.

"Have you come to a decision?" He asked teasingly.

Ayla's arms crossed over her chest and a serious tone came upon her voice. "Let's say, hypothetically, I accept your offer. What would happen exactly?"

"That, I would leave up to you."

"What?"

"I am not knowledgeable of this compound. I do not know the entrances or exits. I don't even know how many men we would be fighting off. Provide me the information, and I'll concoct a plan."

"There are no access codes to leave, only ones to enter and lock the place up. The lowest level of this building has garage exits, two with no surveillance. And there are about thirty men that come in and out of here. Based on how many assignments are being done at the time."

The unexpected supply of information caused Loki to slowly stand from the bed, leisurely sauntering over to her. He squinted his eyes in suspicion. "You are behaving too desperately for all of this to be hypothetical."

Her eyes met Loki's. She felt this vulnerability with him. Could he be talented at manipulating her into trusting him? Or did Ayla sincerely need someone to trust?

He filled in the gap between them, only metal bars being in the way of contact. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They want me to kill. In all my time here, they've never put me on a mission to take someone out. My father is planning something, I don't know what, but none of this feels right." She forced her lip to cease from quivering, but Loki was still able to notice it. "I don't know if I can go through with it."

"What happens if you don't?"

Her gaze dropped, as did a single tear. "No one has come back from an undone mission. I don't even know what would happen." She breathed in sharply and wiped her face of any tears that escaped. Her guarded demeanor returned. "That's why I came to you. I just need a backup plan in case things go south. Even if that means a plan to escape. But if you don't have a plan then I don't want to waste my time."

"I never said I didn't have a plan. I just need your full trust and cooperation in order to formulate a scheme of fleeing."

"Well, I need your full trust and cooperation too."

A slight smirk played on his thin lips. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine."

"That's really cute coming from a God behind bars."

"Well it appears you might be joining me, which I have to admit, would not be a horrible thing."

"Don't get your hopes up." A light smile grew on Ayla's face, even if she didn't want it to. "You're lucky I like you."

"Was that a compliment, dear Ayla?"

"Don't push it."

A slight smirk tugged at Loki's thin lips.

Strangely enough, Ayla enjoyed this little banter between her and Loki. When the other men in the compound tried flirting, bickering, or bothering her, it only gained an eye roll. Sometimes even an assault...from self-defense of course. But with Loki, she oddly felt relaxed. However, apprehension quickly diminished her light hearted feelings, causing her face to grow serious.

Loki was able to catch the change of manner. "You've already made your decision haven't you?" He said. "It's the consequences of your future action that worries you."

She didn't answer him, instead she kept her gaze down.

Suddenly, Loki's fingers brushed passed the bars in between him and Ayla, and they softly wrapped one of the white locks of her hair. She looked up at him. His fingers brushed between strands of bright, alluring hair. This didn't cause her to push him away. It didn't cause her to flinch. It didn't cause her to give the same treatment she gave to Damien when he decided to do the same action only a few days ago. The only feeling it brought to Ayla, was an unusual form of comfort.

The door to the chambers abruptly opened, revealing an impatient Damien approaching them. Instantly, Ayla pushed herself away from Loki's caress.

"Blake. They want an estimate on when you'll be ready."

A sigh of exasperation left Ayla. "I said a couple of hours." Loki glanced between the two, trying not to have a look of confusion by Ayla's answer. She was leaving tonight?

She spoke again. "Can you leave now?"

"Leaving in only a couple of hours, I would expect to find you in your room, packing. Getting ready. Not here in the cells with him."

"Well, according to the previous job you ordered me to do, I'm supposed to meet with our prisoners at least once a day, to gather as much information as possible. This is my meeting with Loki now."

"Loki?" He glanced at the man behind bars, giving an unreadable expression. "I see you guys are on a first name basis" His gaze returned to her, his footsteps sauntered towards her. "You tell him your real name? _Ayla_?"

Her jaw locked. "Is there anything else you want Damien?"

"No. I got what I needed." He gave another glance between the two before walking away, and exiting the large room.

Loki spoke immediately after Damien was out of hearing range. "You are leaving tonight?" Ayla nodded. He figured that would explain her hasty entrance.

She regained focus on her reason for meeting Loki right before her departure. "What will happen if I agree to your plan of escape?"

After an abundance of excruciating time from being in this cell, Loki did conjure a few scenarios of fleeing in his mind. His thoughts working through the hypothetical plans, seeing which was more likely to succeed. But evidently, they all came with one similar thing. Ayla. In every plan, Loki was already set on taking Ayla with him. How far they would go together after that was a mystery but he figured they would cross that bridge when they got there. The most crucial and difficult part, was actually leaving. After many plots he drew up in this mind, there was only one thing he could say to her.

"I can promise that I will protect you. I can guarantee that you will leave this horrid place with no blood on your hands. I give you my word that no harm will come to you."

Loki meant every single word. No tricks. No lies. No manipulation. Only sincere oaths of protection. And Ayla knew it. She knew he was telling the truth. However, she still had doubts in her mind. Not towards Loki, but towards accepting his offer altogether. She needed time to think rationally.

"As soon as I come back from my mission, I'll come see you."

Without another word between them, she left Loki alone. Apprehension was beginning to build. Something was coming. He didn't know what, but usually these gut feelings of his were right. However, there wasn't much he could do. He was powerless in a wretched place he wasn't familiar with, in a realm he absolutely despised, surrounded by experienced killers. Then there was Ayla, he had made her the promise of protection. He meant it. He knew that she knew he meant it, even if she couldn't get herself to admit it. If they set their course of plan into action, Loki would prevent any harm to come to her, but what about now? As he still remains behind bars, what is he to do if she were in danger? His plan would fall through, but for some reason, he felt something deeper than that. He felt himself developing a friendship with the woman. One to which he wasn't entirely against. It would be unwise to upset her intentionally, and he couldn't exactly fake his feelings against her special abilities. But that was just it. That's what made Loki curious about his current dilemma. He didn't need to fake it. He genuinely enjoyed the company of the fair haired, green eyed, clairvoyant woman who showed him kindness.

Loki laid back down to the original position he was in before Ayla entered. There was only one thing he could do now.

And that was to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

It was practically midnight by the time Ayla gathered her things for her upcoming mission and met Hector outside. She strapped her bag around her shoulder and tightened her grip as she walked towards the pickup truck, which was parked outside. Hector was standing alongside it, hauling bags onto the back.

"How long is the trip?" She asked as she threw her backpack to the back along with the other items.

"Seven hours. That's what the GPS said. New Mexico isn't as far as I thought."

"What town?"

"Puente Antiguo."

She furrowed her brow. "Why would SHIELD be there?"

"No idea, but if want to get there in time we'd better go now before they move onto another mission."

"Got it." She gave him an understanding nod and they climbed into the front of the truck. They placed their seatbelts on and drove out of the compound's garage. For the first couple of minutes on the road, Ayla was silent. Already itching to pull the car door open. Itching to make a run for it. Why did her father assign her to this mission? Executing a hit at a top secret agent? Her father was planning something, but she couldn't exactly calculate what it could be.

"You alright?" Hector asked, only giving Ayla a short glance before returning his eyes on the dark road ahead of them, which was illuminated only by the car's headlights.

"I'm fine."

He wasn't convinced.

"You know," He began, "I was silent on my first bounty mission too. Didn't talk to anyone before or after. Just made everything easier that way. The first one is always tough."

"It's not a driver's test Hector. This shouldn't be a first for anyone."

A few seconds of silence had passed before he attempted to make conversation again, this time by changing the subject.

"You remind me of my daughter."

That caused Ayla to shift her numbing gaze away from the window. "You have a daughter?"

"I do, and two boys. Twelve and nine. My daughter is seventeen. She's a strong girl, knows how to take care of herself. She's also very stubborn, just like her mother. You tell my daughter to do one thing, she does the opposite.

That one got a genuine smile from Ayla, it was a small one, but it was genuine. "What's her name?"

"Isabella." She caught him also smiling. It was only then that she noticed, he didn't do it often.

"Does your family know about...what you do?"

"They don't even know I'm alive."

She was thrown back by the response. How could his own family not know if he was alive? Why would they believe him to be dead? Even with multiple questions coursing through her mind, she decided to stay quiet and let him continue.

"I think it's for the best that they think I'm dead. I wasn't exactly the greatest man. I did a few _jobs_ for drug dealers when I was in California. They called me 'La Parca'. The Grim Reaper. I left no traces that led back to me or the men I worked for. Each job I took was to build financial stability. Support my family, even if that meant some sleepless nights and a guilty conscience. If carrying that guilt was the only cost so I could support my family, then it was worth it."

When Ayla was taken away from her life, she had no interest in learning anything about the men who worked for her father. She didn't even have an interest in getting to know her father. She isolated herself. To her, everything was good or bad. Black or white. But now? Hector was reflecting a grey area she never even considered.

He went on.

"At some point, I got arrested. Ironically, they accused me of drug dealing. When in reality, my boss was the one selling drugs. I was just there to protect him. While I was in prison, another inmate started a fight with me, stabbed me right on the side." His fingers tapped on his ribs. "Hurt like hell if you ask me. Still have a scar from it. I was in the infirmary for a few weeks. They did emergency surgeries on me, made my family worried sick. While I was in recovery, your father came to the prison, offered me a job. Promised me a way out and paycheck along with it. It was more than enough to support my family."

"You took his offer."

He let out an audible sigh as his face scrunched with slight despair. "I had to. I wasn't doing my wife and kids a favor by being locked up. After that, they announced me dead at the prison, and now I'm here. I send my paychecks to my brother Juan, who checks on my family from time to time. He's the only one who knows I'm alive."

Hector was one of the few men Ayla got along with. He never caused trouble, never gave her a reason to not respect or trust him. They weren't close, of course; he was just a friendly face at the compound. But hearing his story, his value of family, his sacrifice so they could have a better life. It struck her emotionally.

"When was the last time you saw them?" She asked.

"Two years."

"You must miss them."

Strain crept onto his face. "Every moment of every day." Subconsciously, Ayla's mind tapped into Hector's. A vision flashed through her head. Hector, outside on a vibrant day, playing tag with three radiantly happy children. The vision left as quickly as it transpired. The laughter of the children faded into the silence inside the car. Ayla's gaze returned to the window. The dark dessert radiated a sapphire color as the bright moon illuminated upon it. Distant stars staying perfectly still as the ground rapidly passed them.

Hector's family was his entire world. Ayla was able to see that just from the emotion behind his words when he spoke of them. In her current status, family was a tricky thing. She has received no love from her father. No affection. No sacrifices for her well-being. A loving father like Hector would never make his daughter kill anyone. So ultimately, she had to come to the conclusion that Ayla's father was anything but loving.

But the family life she had before that, that was the type of family worth sacrificing for. Ayla's mother shaped her the be the woman she used to be. Kind, free spirited, sweet, proud. But now? In the environment she was in, kindness was deemed as weakness. Having a free spirit led to recklessness. And proud? What could Ayla possibly be proud of? She was the daughter of a mass murderer, and held the unspoken title of hostage.

Ayla felt trapped and did nothing about it. That wasn't something to be proud of.

An hour had passed when exhaustion finally took over her body as she reminded herself of the fond memories with her mother. The image of her mother's arms around her became comforting as she drifted to sleep.

* * *

A few hours had passed since Loki had spoken to Ayla. From what he understood, tonight was her departure into a mission to kill. Her very first mission to kill. It made him curious on why they had sent her. Did she possess more than one ability outside of reading people? It had never occurred to him to ask her. If she did, perhaps she could make up for Loki's lack of powers. Which still frustrated him. He didn't understand why he felt an absence when he had been taking care of himself. He had eaten the mush they called food. Drank enough water. Slept when needed. He felt strong.

Yet not even a flicker of light would appear from Loki's palm.

There was no use irritating himself on the issue. All he needed was patience. What he was waiting for was unclear, but patience has proven to benefit him in the past. He was currently laying on the metal bench in his cell. His eyes closed as he welcomed sleep for the night. However, the sound of something striking the metal bars caused his eyes to abruptly open.

"Wake up." Loki followed the sound of the voice, only to see that it was the vexatious man they called Damien. "You and I are going to have a talk." Damien said.

With a sigh of exasperation, Loki closed his eyes once again.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Another blow to Loki's cell. He was becoming irritated with the displeasing sound of metal on metal, radiating throughout the large room full of cells.

"I suggest you not do that again, it is quite infuriating." Loki's calm voice only seemed to have angered the man more.

"Then start talking, or the breaking of your bones will be the next sound you hear."

Loki turned his head over carelessly. "And what is it that we must speak of?"

"The girl. What are you telling her?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself? She hardly needs me to speak for her."

"I listened in on your little talk. What plans are you trying to make with her?"

"I don't have the faintest of what you speak of?" Loki conveyed a slight mockery of surprise.

"You know, around here, when we have someone detained, we question them together. Blake's job is just to tell us if they're lying or not. Yet, with you, she wants to question you all alone. By her own request. Seems suspicious, don't you think?"

Loki sat up with a slight smirk on his features. "Is this doubt I hear? In one of your own? How unstable."

"She isn't one of us."

"Who is she then?"

"Nothing special."

Loki deep laugh echoed throughout the numerous cells aligned together. "Spoken solely from a man who was most likely declined in an attempt to woo her. How awful it must feel to have a stunning alluring woman turn you down. She paid you no interest. Or did you encounter in a romance and she simply got bored of you?"

Damien strutted towards the bars of the prison cell, wishing they weren't there, just so he could throw another punch at Loki's smug face. "We were told not to lay a hand on you, but I'm really tempted to open this cell and break that rule."

Loki was amused on how quick Damien's fuse was. When others were stressed, it helped Loki stay calm, often causing people to feel even more uneased. "What more were you told?"

"You're some Prince from Scandinavia. That true?"

"I come from a family of royalty." Loki didn't exactly lie. Even if they weren't his birth family. A slight bitter taste came to Loki's mouth just from the mention of it though.

"Yeah you look like you'd be some prince. Stuck up, thinking they're better than anyone else. Never experienced struggle. High and proud when they're on their mighty throne, but when they come down to our level, when the crown and title is taken away, they're as ordinary and powerless as everyone else. Just like you are in this cell."

"Yet, even powerless, I've captured Ayla's interest. Which would explain your discernible rage towards me."

"It's not about her. I just don't like you."

"It's an equal emotion, trust me."

"Yeah? Well you could say whatever you want in this little cell of yours. I still have the advantage."

Loki's eyes darkened as he sauntered over to the metal bars that stood between him and Damien. He came to a stop as he was only inches away. "Open the cell then Damien. Let's concur on who truly has the advantage."

Damien's fingers were itching to reach for the key in his pocket. The smirk on Loki's face infuriated him. How relaxed he was, how proud he acted. But, the jerk wasn't worth his job. As much as he wanted to beat Loki senseless right there in that moment, he couldn't do it. He couldn't do it just because he provoked him. Losing self-control and being an assassin didn't boat well together. So, Damien mustered up his abstention and took a significant step away from Loki.

The act caused Loki to maliciously laugh, his dark voice slightly echoed in his cell. "Quite an advantage you have, I see."

"You're not worth it." Damien said. "Blake may say you're innocent, but I'm not convinced. I'll find out exactly what's going on." And with that, he marched out of the room, determined, leaving a complacent Loki.

After Damien exited the cell room, he tread towards the surveillance room, a suspicion itching his mind. His footsteps echoing throughout the cement walls. When he entered the surveillance room, he found two men sitting in front of multiple monitors, displaying different views from cameras all over the compound.

"Show me footage of the cell room a few hours ago." Damien said.

One man did what he was told, clicking away at a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him. There was a monitor on the side, larger than the others. Currently black, but after a few keys were hit, the image of Loki in his cell appeared. The man placed the footage on rewind. Damien entered the screen from their recent encounter only minutes ago. Then it was Loki by himself. Quick clips of him walking around in his cell, eating food, laying in his bed. Then the screen became black for two seconds before resuming to its original footage. It was quick, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"Wait," Damien said, "Go back, slower this time." The footage went back, this time, the black screen appeared for five seconds before returning to the view of Loki in his cell. "Do it again." This time Damien stared at the time in the corner of the screen.

_8:25_

The black screen appeared for another five seconds. Then the original footage returned. Damien spotted the time again.

_8:43_

The time changed significantly.

"There's footage missing between 8:25 and 8:43." Damien pointed out.

The other man sitting beside them furrowed his brows. "That can't be." But when he watched the continuous loop of the footage, he saw that Damien was right. "Must have been a circuit blowing out."

"I doubt that. Go back to the footage the day before." In advanced speed, the footage went through the entire day in the cell. Showing three different guards giving Loki three different meals. But there it was again. That flicker of black.

"Stop there!"

The video was paused.

"Go back a few and replay it slowly." Sure enough, the same result occurred. There were about twenty to thirty minutes of footage missing. Ayla said she went to talk to Loki everyday, yet there was no footage of it. It seemed whenever she went, the cameras were always turned off.

"Has Harley Blake come into this room in the past couple of days?"

One of the men spoke. "Yeah. Actually, she's told us twice now that _you_ were looking for us. So we left her in the room."

"Alone?"

"Well, we didn't question her."

"Maybe you should've." This proved that not only Loki was up to something, but so was the boss' daughter.

She was compromised. They both needed to be stopped before any plans were executed.

"Copy that footage and send it to me." Damien ordered before leaving the room and reaching for his phone in his pocket. As he made his way to his office, he dialed the number of the man in charge. A few rings vibrated through Damien's ear. He was already in his office, with the door closed.

A deep intense voice spoke on the other line. Slightly hinting at a Irish-German accent.

"What is it Damien?"

"Sir, one of our own has been compromised."

"And who might that be?"

Damien hesitated for a moment, but only a short moment. "Your daughter."

Silence crept from the other line. It put Damien on edge, fearful of the man's response. "My daughter is compromised."

"Yes sir."

"Perhaps you should enlighten me on how exactly that could be possible?" His gravel calm voice caused Damien to gulp, hoping his evidence was enough to prove his statement.

"We have a new prisoner. He was found unconscious on our grounds. We brought him in for questioning and it seems that he's been conspiring with your daughter."

"What is your testament to this, Damien?" He spat his name, almost causing the man to flinch.

"There is footage missing of their encounters together. She has ordered our men to not lay a single hand on him. And in their most recent meeting, I overheard them talking about some plan."

"A plan for what?"

"I don't know exactly."

"Oh Damien, you know I don't like those words."

"I know sir but I thought this was an issue to discuss with you."

"You expect me to believe my daughter, my only child, is conspiring with an insignificant prisoner of yours, based off the evidence of damaged equipment, orders against abuse, and your overhearing, to which, evidently, you didn't hear that clearly to begin with?"

"I know it's a long shot sir, but I'd rather be safe than sorry."

There was a moment of silence, and Damien would be lying if he were to say he wasn't afraid in that very second. Afraid the man on the phone was sneaking up behind him now. Awaiting for his attack.

Finally, his boss spoke from the other line. "Observe them both. Fix whatever is happening with your cameras and watch their encounters. Do not confront her about this. This call never happened. Understood?"

"Of course."

"And Damien."

"Yes?"

"If this is an attempt to hurt my daughter and none of what you say is true, I promise you, the next quarrel you'll have will be with me." His threat came with a low brutal tone, causing a slight shiver through Damien's skin. The line cut with no further words.

Regret soon consumed Damien's mind. He felt stupid for not finding more evidence. Ayla never had a stable relationship with her father, everyone on the compound knew this. They knew best than to get in between the two. However, through the threat of his boss and the lies from both Loki and Ayla, Damien was now determined more than ever to prove there was a conspiracy. To prove he was useful. Prove he deserved his high position of leadership.

Suddenly, Damien heard the door swing open. It was one of the guards from the surveillance room.

"Sir, we just wanted to know if you got the message of the videos."

Loki was up to something. At least Damien could find comfort and determination from that.

As for Ayla, she better hope he only finds evidence against Loki. Otherwise, she'll be on the receiving end of her father's hair-raising threat.

"Yeah." Damien said, "I got the message."


	6. Chapter 6

Hector stood by the window of the motel room. "This room is directly across from where Barton is staying." He said "We had our own private investigators watch his every move so you can make a clean and accurate timed hit. It should be a clear shot."

"Where will you be?" Ayla asked Hector. She sat cross legged on the queen sized bed draped with maroon colored bed covers.

"Right next door." He answered and then turned to look at Ayla. "If there are any problems, you come to me. And I mean anything. You got that?"

"Yeah ...I got it." She said, with a hint of a bitter tone. The bitterness was subconsciously aimed at her father rather than at Hector. Ayla's mind screamed at her to run. Her own morality cursed at her for even thinking about going through with this. Her desperation to flee contrasted against the calm coolness her body was portraying.

"Alright," Hector said, "So around 5:00 am, he'll leave his room for a morning run. According to our guys who have been following him, it's been his usual routine since SHIELD has been here. That should be the best time for you to make the hit." Hector tossed a pair of black rubber gloves to Ayla, which she managed to catch. "Put those on." He said, as he followed his own instruction with another pair of gloves in his hand. Ayla did as Hector said, pulling each glove down to her wrist.

Hector made his way to a case he had brought into the room. Ayla scrunched her eyebrows together, curious to what was inside. His arm lifted the case from the ground and placed it on the bed, which got the Ayla's attention. "Let's get you prepped." His fingers clicked the case open, revealing a gun. But it was broken apart into a few pieces. A shiver involuntarily ran down Ayla's spine. A wave of apprehension filled her chest and stomach.

He showed her how to assemble the rifle he had given her. Pointing out the silencer and how to place it correctly on the sniper rifle. Over the years, they had trained her to use revolvers once in a while. Her father's explanation was so she could defend herself in vulnerable situations. But she was never given an intricate weapon like this.

"Whenever you're holding it, you need to have these gloves on. At all times." Ayla nodded as she practiced connecting the pieces together.

"Does he usually have you prep people to do these...jobs?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Very few times. Your father wanted to appoint me to teach you since I have the most experience, but a job is a job. I'm just following orders." He focused his stare, examining the way Ayla set each piece of the gun together. He corrected her occasionally.

"Just following orders." She repeated the words slowly under her breath. "And do you agree with the orders you follow?"

"It's not my place to have an opinion about it."

"Have you ever thought about leaving it all behind one day?" Ayla asked. The question had been running through her mind since they left the compound.

Hector stopped what he was doing and gave her a look that she couldn't quite decipher. "Have you?" He asked.

She quirked a small smile. "I asked you first."

He let out a sigh before answering her question. "I am where I am in life because I put myself there. I get the job done, my family is supported and I'm treated right. So leaving hasn't come to my mind." Ayla lowered her head, a somber look growing onto her face. It wasn't exactly the answer she wanted to hear, but then he continued. "But I'm also not a kid who was taken from their life with no choice. Leaving behind everything they know and love. I made a decision to join this lifestyle. Your father made the decision for you, for his own benefits."

She looked up at him. "You really believe that? That I'm just here for him to use me?"

He gazed away, Ayla got the sense that he was searching for the right words. "I try not to make assumptions. I'm not sure about a lot of things. But one thing I am sure of? This is definitely not the path I'd want my kids to take. I want them to enjoy life, not take it away from others."

A different question came into Ayla's mind. One she decided not to ask out loud. Did her father only see her as a convenience to his disturbing operation? Was he just abusing her powers to his advantage?

"I'll leave you alone," Hector's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Maybe you should get some rest. Since you need to be up before the sun is." Hector started making his way towards the door but then slowed his steps to a full stop. He turned to face Ayla. "Do you think about leaving?"

The question made her stare up at him. She contemplated which words to use before opening her mouth to speak. "Usually, I don't get myself hopeful enough to think about it."

"But you want to, it's not a secret that you're not happy at the compound."

"If it's not a secret then why does my father keep me there?"

"Why don't you ask him?" She scoffed, but he continued "It might seem unrealistic but I think it could benefit you."

She pressed her eyebrows forward. "Benefit me?"

He nodded. "Sit down with him and ask. You're his daughter. It might not seem like it but most fathers just want the best for their children."

"Why would he have me to do this then Hector?"

He gazed down to the floor. As wise as he seemed, Ayla could see that he couldn't truly know the answer to that question. No one could. "Maybe he's pushing you to be better. I have to admit, it's a disturbing way of doing it, but maybe this is the only way to grant you the freedom you want."

_The freedom you want. _Pursuing this mission could help Ayla gain her father's trust. Perhaps enough trust for him to let her leave. _But what about Loki? Could he come with me?_

"Listen kid," Hector's voice shook her thoughts away. "Everything is going to be okay in the end. And if it's not okay, then it's not the end." He gave her a sincere smile and exited out the door, giving Ayla the calmness before the storm.

Over the years, Ayla has secluded herself away from everyone in the compound her father owns. Making a presence only when she was called in. Training in the gym only when no one else was there. Having trust in anyone seemed like an unreachable concept. Sometimes, she wasn't even sure if she could trust herself. Especially now, as she sits in a motel room in New Mexico with a gun.

* * *

_The screams varied in different sounds from different places. The blur of destruction surrounded Ayla's vision. The chaotic scene was endless. This was the storm ripping the innocent ground to pieces._

_But where could she go? _

_Everywhere Ayla turned, there would be a group of people shooting at each other or a burst of flames from sudden explosions. She ran anywhere that seemed safe. Causing her to make sudden turns as she sprinted. She didn't know where to go or what to do but staying in one place didn't seem like an option. Ayla turned, surprised but relieved to see a clear hallway. She made her dash down the empty hallway._

_But suddenly, an explosion ruptured through the wall, causing her to fly and be thrown against the corner of another wall. Tears blurred her vision as she cried out on the floor. A flaming pain spread around her side. The throbbing sensation was becoming unbearable. Her attempt to fully sit up became a struggle, resulting in her carefully turning over and lifting up her shirt. This exposed a horrid bruise forming around the side of her ribs. She winced as she pulled the shirt back down and turned to lay on her side. She whimpered with every move caused by the blinding pain. _

_How did she end up here? _

_How did their journey stray from the path so easily?_

_Suddenly, a pair of arms made their way under her, pulling her off the ground. Ayla looked up to her rescuer's face, seeing a familiar pair of ice blue eyes. _

_"Loki?"_

Ayla's eyes flashed open. Dazed from the sound of the chaos only to seize to sudden silence. Her arms instinctively wrapped around herself, surprised to feel no pain. A heavy sigh escaped her full lips as relief consumed her. It was just a dream.

She glanced over to the digital clock beside her, atop of the dresser next to her bed. _3:50am_. The edge of her palms rubbed harshly over her heavy eyelids, sinking down over her cheeks and down to her chin. It was only ten minutes before the alarm she had set was supposed to go off. She groaned as she kicked the sheets away. Might as well get up now.

As Ayla dressed, the memory of Hector's words repeated in her mind. There wasn't much hope for her to build a relationship with her father. She lived without him for almost all of her life. She didn't need him then and she refused to need him now. But, perhaps, she could use him. Use his trust to her benefit.

Time had passed by. The darkness of the sky began to soften to a lighter shade of blue. Natural light began to surround the motel room.

And there Ayla was. Hidden in the shadows behind the light. Sitting in a lounge chair, with a rifle in hand. Waiting. Waiting for a moment she had been dreading the most. The exact moment that will set her future in course.

Once the hit was made, Ayla was instructed to call Hector on a burner phone they picked up on their way to Puente Antiguo.

Suddenly the digital clock rang with the alarm Ayla had placed on it. Ensuring that she was prepared when she needed to be. She glanced at the 4:59 am blinking profoundly at her. With a slight tug of the drapes, Ayla knelt down in front of the window. Her hands gripped the window and pushed it up to open it. With the rifle in hand, She positioned it the way Hector had taught her, placing her eye near the magnifying scope, having a clear view of Barton's door to his room.

Minutes had passed. Still no Barton. Ayla remained in position, her shoulders began to tighten and a soreness was starting to develop in her calves and ankles.

The clocked ticked and the sun was beginning to surface. Ayla exhaled audibly out of frustration. Thirty minutes have passed and still, not a single person has exited from that room. Did they make a mistake? Was he in a different room? A different motel? Suddenly, her view through the scope on her gun was blurred. She moved her face away to observe the view with her own eyes.

Her eyes widened. A truck drove up, blocking her sight line completely. Her mind began to race and her heartbeat started to increase. _What am I supposed to do now?_

Suddenly, an idea leaped into her mind. As quickly as her hands could manage, she disassembled the weapon and placed each part in it's correct spot in the case Hector had given her. She slammed the case shut, pulled her black hood up over her head, and slid her burner phone in the back pocket of her jeans. Her feet sprinted out the door and she swung it shut behind her. Ayla ran down the steps of the building, reaching the motel parking lot. The parking lot street lights were still lit, floodlighting an orange tone to the asphalt. She ran around to the side of the building. Adrenaline pumped through her body as she frantically searched. Her eyes spotted on what she was looking for. The fire escape.

She towards the fire escape and placed the case on the ground, right under the ladder. She stepped on top of it and with force pushed from her feet, she leaped to try and grab the ladder. Her hands managed to grasp the metal bar, and with all her strength, she pulled it down. Grabbing the case, she climbed up the fire escape.

After, many many stairs later, Ayla finally reached the roof. It was a guaranteed view up here. She made her way to the edge of the building and once again, assembled the gun. After propping it up, she laid on her stomach. Her hand reached into her back pocket and pulled out the phone to check the time. 4:45 am.

She remained still, hoping she didn't just miss her target.

Her body froze.

_Her target_

A heaviness caused her heart to sink as realization swarmed her mind.

In a matter of a few minutes, she sprinted out of her room, climbed up a fire escape, and placed herself on top of a roof with only one goal on her mind. To kill. To kill a human being. In a matter of seconds, if her adrenaline remained at a high, she would've been capable of murder.

"I can't do this." She whispered to herself.

Suddenly, there was a buzzing, causing her to flinch. Her eyes gazed down to the burner phone, recognizing the number calling. It was Hector. She quickly reached for it and pressed the enter button. "Yeah." She said as she stood, purposely creating distance between her and the weapon she set up.

"You haven't called in a while. Did you do it?"

Her eyes locked onto the gun as it stood alone, without it's shooter.

"Yeah…. I did it." It took all of Ayla's strength to lock her trembling fingers so the phone wouldn't fall out of her hand.

"Anyone see you?"

"No witnesses. The hit against Barton was quick and clean."

"Alright, get your stuff together so we can go. Don't want to stick around for the party. I'll meet you in the truck."

"Got it. I'm on top of the roof. I'll be there in a few." She hung up the phone. The trembling circulated down to her legs, causing her to lean against a nearby railing. She was inhaling and exhaling rapidly. The heat made her sweat yet she felt cold air rush to her head. "What am I going to do?"

_Keep a straight face. No matter what, you say you killed Clint Barton._

In her attempt to snap out of it, she bent down and disassembled the rifle, hoping to never come in contact with it again. Suddenly, she heard a movement behind her. In her frozen stance, she heard his voice.

"I'm going to give you thirty seconds to tell me who you are…"

She slowly turned to see a recognizable face, only now, he wasn't a target on paper. He was an agent standing before Ayla, with a bow and arrow pointing straight at her.

"...and you're also going to tell me why you're trying to kill me."


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm going to give you thirty seconds to tell me who you are and why you're trying to kill me."

There was an awareness to every movement she made. To every single fiber on her body. Every shiver of breath or unexpected gasp. Was it fear that had the hairs on the back of Ayla's neck stand high? Was it fear that created eerie images in her mind? Images of an arrow piercing straight through her body?

"Turn around with your hands out." The man said.

Slowly, Ayla lifted her hands above her head and turned to face the man holding the bow and arrow. The man, was Clint Barton himself. Coincidentally, the exact person Ayla was ordered to kill.

"I'm not going to ask you again." He said. "Who are you and why are you trying to kill me?"

Panic coursed through Ayla's body. But in this threatening situation, she forced herself to maintain a cool and collected state.

"I'm not going to kill you." Her voice stood on edge as she carefully spoke. Afraid her own words could even pose a possible threat.

"_Who_ sent you?"

"I don't know."

He pulled the arrow back. Determination flashing past his eyes.

"I'm telling the truth!" She cried. "I don't know who called the hit or why they called it. I was just given a name and a place-"

"You're a hitwoman." He stated.

Her eyebrows scrunched together. "No… I'm not… I'm not going to hurt you… I've never even killed-

"Someone called you." He said. She noticed his eyes focused on the burner phone she dropped on the ground. "You told them you made the hit when you didn't. You lied to them. Why?"

If he heard the call, there's a chance he could've been following her since the moment she ran out of her motel room. "I couldn't go through with it." She answered.

A dark chuckle huffed from his chest. "I'm supposed to believe you had a change of heart?"

"You're supposed to believe that I'm not a threat anymore."

"Anymore?"

"I am not going to live with someone's death on my conscience."

"An assassin who feels guilty about killing? You don't see that everyday."

"I'm not an assassin." Ayla stated assertively. "That's what they want me to be."

"Who are _they_?_" _His tone became more forceful.

She closed her mouth, refusing to speak. In retaliation of her silence, an arrow instantly launched from Clint's grip. A piercing cry emerged from Ayla's throat as the arrow shred through the sleeve of her hoodie, and sliced the skin underneath. Air rushed to the harsh sting on her arm. Her body leaned forward as she desperately clutched her arm and winced from the pain. She retracted her palm that was grasping her injured arm. Blood was smeared all over her hand.

"You better start talking. Unlike you, I won't hesitate to take a life if I have to."

"I was sent here by my father." She spat, wiping the warm blood on her dark jeans.

"...your father." Clint repeated the words slowly. His eyes noticed her hidden face. "Take the hood off." He commanded. After a moment of hesitation, she did as he ordered, pressing her fingers onto the black fabric to pull it back. Strands of ivory colored hair curled around the curves of her youthful face.

There was a shift in the archer's dark eyes as they casted upon her now revealed face. The muscles in his face softened. And maybe, just maybe Ayla saw him slightly lower his bow and arrow. But only slightly. She would've missed the faint action if her anxiety didn't force her eyes on the weapon.

"Why does your father want me dead?" He asked.

"Would you believe me if I said it wasn't personal?"

"Feels pretty personal."

A deep sigh escaped her lips. "An anonymous person wants you dead. So they made an arrangement with my father."

"He's a contract killer."

A lump formed in her throat. Her eyes gazed to the ground. "More or less."

"And what's to stop me from calling ten other agents to detain you?"

Her breath took a sharp take and winced from the increasing throbbing from the gash on her arm, being reminded of the gash on her arm. Her fingers around the open wound clutched harder.

The warm liquid of her own blood stained her pale fingers as she placed pressure on the wound. There wasn't a clear escape from this intensifying situation. If it were up to the man pointing a weapon at her, she'd leave the roof with handcuffs around her wrists. Which was the exact thing she was avoiding. She needed to walk free. She needed Clint to let her walk free. Her mind extended towards his mind, diving into the very core of his psyche. Ayla was met with visions of small children running through yellow weeds of a large countryside landscape. Through the visions, she saw Clint himself embracing a brunette haired woman as they watched their children play. Both Clint and his wife with beaming smiles on their features.

In an instant, the images were gone, and Ayla was brought back, gaping at the archer.

He had a family. And their happiness… it was a happiness she once felt. The image of her mother glimmered in her mind. Jet black waves cascading around the sweet expression on her face. A daisy in her mother's hair gently placed there by the love of a child.

"He's the reason my mother is dead." She stated, swallowing the lump in her throat. "My father killed my mother."

Clint's eyes blinked multiple times, not expecting to hear those words from the young girl.

A deep sigh escaped Ayla's lips as she continued. "For years I've been his hostage. He brought me to the place where he does his… _business_. I was assigned to this mission because he wanted me to prove my loyalty to him." The light wind breezed coldly against her dampened eyes. She blinked numerous times, forcing any tears away from her jade colored eyes. "This mission was my only way to get away from him. The only way to gain his trust. I had to do it by killing another person." Her eyes locked with Clint's. "But I am not my father, and I refuse to be anything like him. If you want to arrest me, then go ahead. Arrest me. I won't even stop you. But I am not the one you should put in a jail cell. My father is. Trust me, he's an extremely dangerous man. You do not want him walking free."

Clint held a stone cold face as Ayla spoke. His stance stood strongly, intimidatingly. Did the truth benefit Ayla, or did it bring her closer to a death sentence?

After long moments of silence, Clint lowered his weapon. A gloved hand ran through his spiked up chestnut hair. "You're just a kid." He said, exampling distress in his features.

His face turned in her direction. "God, I hope you're telling me the truth." Clint's swung his bow forward, snapping it closed, he then placed it in a holder strapped around his back. "You have a plan now? Are you going back?"

She glanced down. "I have to."

"And what are they going to do when they find out you didn't kill me?" He asked.

Her throat held a rasp that caused her voice to break. "I don't know."

"Could be dangerous for you to go back."

"It could be."

His eyes observed her, however his stare wasn't threatening. This man trusted her enough to disarm his weapon. He no longer saw her as a threat, to Ayla's relief.

"I'm going to help you." He declared.

She remained still. "What?"

"Your father is the man we want. Not you. But you need to come with us so we can question you and we can surveillance-"

"We?"

"SHIELD. We're the good guys, and we can help you. We can keep you safe."

_Safe_. It was almost too good to be true…. Maybe it was.

"I can't go with you." She said.

Clint exhaled audibly and crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't have much of a choice."

"Excuse me?"

He made his way towards her, instinctively she took a step back, causing him to stop in his tracks. He got the hint. "Look, you said it yourself. Your father is a very dangerous guy. A man who sent his own daughter on a mission to kill another person. That sounds like someone who needs to be stopped, not protected."

"I'm not protecting him."

"Then who are you protecting?"

"I'm protecting myself." She said forcefully. "What would he think if I didn't come back after sending me to my very first assignment? He'll suspect that I betrayed him, he'd come looking for me. I need to leave with no trail."

"I don't know if you've noticed kid, but you already left a trail by keeping me alive. You don't think they'll run surveillance on SHIELD? And when they do they'll see me, alive and well. What do you think they'll do to you when they find out you let me go?"

"That's my problem to handle."

She made her way past Clint. He gently grabbed her uninjured arm, stopping her from going further. "If you go back, you're putting yourself in the line of fire. At that point you'll be on your own. But if you let me help, we can bring him down. And I can protect you."

She searched his weary eyes, finding desperation and honesty behind them. The protection he promised was built from truth. The urge to help her was sincere. Just by making one choice, Ayla could live the life she longed for. The life of freedom. Living as her own individual without being surrounded by murderers and criminals. Without being surrounded by death. Without being reminded of her mother's death every single day. Every moment she walked through those halls of the compound. Every time they trained her to become a killer. She absolutely loathed every single one of those moments. And now? They could all simply go away, just by making one choice.

But then...she saw Loki's face.

His fair skin, sharp features, and crystal azure eyes. But only in her mind, his porcelain skin was smeared with scarlet blood. His keen features were swollen, cut, and bruised. Dark circles surrounded his bright eyes that were stricken with fear.

She couldn't leave Loki.

"I can't go with you." Ayla decided. "I have to go back, I'm sorry."

Pressure from Clint's hand increased on Ayla's arm "I'm sorry too." His arms strongly wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground, causing her to kick against him.

The panic from before rose in her body again. "Let go of me! You don't understand!"

But even against her kicks, her struggles, and her refusal to leave, he grasped her tightly making his way towards the fire escape. Once again she felt a powerful throbbing from the deep cut on her arm, causing her to scream out.

"I told you! I can't go with you!" She planted her boots into the gravel of the roof, only to be dragged by Clint's hard grasp. "Let go of me! Please!"

"Not a chance."

With each step Clint took, Ayla saw them move further and further from where they originally stood. Wherever he was taking her, even with the reassurance that it was somewhere safe; she couldn't go with him. She needed to go back to the compound. Make her father believe she accomplished the mission. Earn the freedom she's wanted for so long. She needed to earn it.

"You're hurting me!" She yelled.

Suddenly, Clint stopped in his tracks, which also ceased Ayla's struggle. They both gazed up and Ayla easily recognized the familiar face.

"Let her go. _Now._"

"Who the hell are you?" Barton asked.

"Your executioner."

Hector. He must've heard the screams. Now here he was. And with a gun pointed at Clint.

Ayla could feel Clint's body lock up. "You the girl's father?"

"I was sent to protect her." Hector said.

"Yeah? Sent by who?"

"Her father."

"Hate to disappoint you, but she's coming with me. You're going to have to shoot that gun to stop me."

A deep angst flared up in Ayla's chest.

"I don't think that's necessary. We can all just walk away from this and forget it happened." Ayla said.

Clint released his grip on Ayla, only to move her behind him. He held out an arm in front of her. "I'm trying to help you." He said to her.

"I don't need your help." Because Clint released her, she was able to examine the wound on her arm. The blood blended into a dark crimson. A dizziness began to control Ayla's body, but she fought to keep her stance.

While keeping a wary eye on Hector, Clint turned his face slightly to glance at Ayla. "Listen kid, the people I work with, they can help you._ I _can help you. You're looking for a way out? We can give it to you. A new name, a new life. A complete fresh start. No one will find you." He took a moment to completely look at her, with an expression of sincerity. "I promise."

They locked eyes for a brief moment. "A fresh start." She whispered.

"Don't listen to him," Ayla's eyes locked with Hector's. "He's lying." His eyes gazed to Clint as he straightened the arm holding the gun.

"Hector," Ayla called. "He's not lying. You have to trust me on that."

"Look, I know you want to believe him but you can't trust him-"

"I'm asking you to trust _me_ Hector."

"You were given one assignment and you couldn't do it. You let your emotions get the better of you. You weren't ready for this. Can you even trust _yourself_!?"

Suddenly, Clint's leg swung in the air, kicking the handgun out of Hector's hand. All in one swift movement Clint was able to catch the gun in midair. He aimed the gun towards the ground. "You better walk away now cause you're really starting to piss me off."

"Not without the girl."

"Your funeral." His arm raised up to aim at Hector.

"No!" Ayla yelled, pushing his arm to the side, redirecting the line of fire. The gun went off, diverging a wrecking sound that echoed in the air. Ayla banefully fell to the ground, unfortunately landing on her injured arm. A quick light flashed through her eyes from the blinding pain. Her vision began to blur as everything melted into a daze. In quick flashes she saw Hector lunging towards Clint, throwing him down to the ground. The men tossed and turned around on the gravel of the roof. With much difficulty, Ayla pulled herself up while leaning on a large metal object. She managed to get herself standing, slightly swaying.

Quickly, Hector pinned Clint to the ground. His hand reached towards the bottom leg cuff of his pants, swifting out a knife from his shoe. His arm launched in the air, preparing to swing down.

Ayla peered up, her eyes adjusted as she saw the situation before. She grabbed the gun.

"Stop!"

Both men looked up, taking in the image of Ayla pointing a gun directly at Hector.

"Put the knife down." She said.

There was a determination in Hector's eyes. "You couldn't finish the job. Let me do it for you. No blood on your hands. No guilt on your conscience. Nobody needs to know that you walked away."

"I'll know. I'll know that we would still leave a man, dead in our tracks. I do plan on walking away but I'm doing it under one condition and one condition only. He leaves here alive. I'm not like my father Hector. I will _never_ be like my father. And this is my way to prove it." She took a step closer to Hector, aiming the gun precisely at his head. "Let. Him. Go"

Both men exchanged glances at each other, then glanced at the gun, then at the woman holding it. Her strong stance and her stringent hold on the handgun conveyed all the confidence in the world, but deep inside she hid the terror and panic shaking through her core.

With one last look at Ayla, Hector made a final decision.

He slowly raised his arms up above his head, and dropped the knife on the ground. Ayla kicked it away from their vicinity. Still with his hands raised, Hector removed himself from the ground, allowing Clint to rise. Both men raised their arms up and stared at the woman with the weapon in her hand. Ayla marched behind them as they remained on their knees.

"Clint," She started, "Thank you for offering help, but I need to fight this battle on my own." She took a pause. "I'm sorry about this."

"About what?" Clint asked.

Her arm raised behind him and swung, striking the back of his head with the grip of the gun. Instantly, he fell forward onto the gravel.

With Clint Barton's unconscious body on the ground, a silent tensity filled the air around Ayla and Hector.

Hector gaped up at her and spoke, "You just made the biggest mistake of your life."


	8. Chapter 8

"Dammit Hector."

Ayla's teeth clenched, wincing from the sharp needle that was piercing through her skin, dragging a thin thread along with it. Hector's eyes remained focused as he stitched Ayla's wound. He bent the lamp towards her arm. The humming from the warm toned light bulb annoyingly filled her ears. But it was the strongest light source they could find in the setting they were in.

After leaving the scene on the roof, they drove towards an abandoned warehouse, Hector refusing to utter any words to Ayla. She figured she would have been more concerned about his silence if she could concentrate on anything other than the unpleasant feeling of blood loss. Her blood oozed through her fingers, soaked through her sleeve, and trickled down to her jeans. Sleep seemed like the most satisfying necessity in that moment, but her blinding headache attacked any thought of it. It kept Ayla wide awake, feeling absolutely everything. Of course the state of the ominous warehouse did not comfort her either, but in their predicament, it wasn't really the time to be picky.

Another needle prodded through her skin, causing her to wince aggressively. Her fingernails gripped onto the wooden table covered with medical tools, rusted wrenches, and blood stained gauze. She made an effort to contain any curses. With all of the focus in the world, Hector continued stitching up the arrow wound on her arm. Talking didn't seem like an option at that moment. Her thoughts seemed to be the only thing that could distract her from the pain. Unfortunately, the same thought kept repeating in her mind.

_You just made the biggest mistake in your life._

Hector's words pulsed from her memory. The choice of keeping Clint Barton alive, was apparently a mistake.

If the assignment was passed onto any other person, Clint Barton would be a bloodied corpse instead of an unconscious breathing man. Ayla did feel slightly guilty for knocking him out by hitting his head, but she figured it was the lesser of two evils.

She didn't make a mistake. She refused to believe she did. However, she was certain, her decision to keep him alive would come back to her. Life would either bring the day back to haunt her or it would remunerate her for sparing another human being. There was no secret which one Ayla wanted to avoid.

"How do you know this place?" She finally decided to break the overbearing silence.

"It's a safe house." Hector responded. "On the map it doesn't exist as anything but there is an owner to the lot, so it won't be bought or torn down."

"Who's the owner?"

"I am."

"You have your own safe house?"

"One of five. They've been useful in the past."

Ayla's body slightly jumped from another stitching. Her teeth grinded into her bottom lip, certain she was tasting her own blood. It took all of her self control to maintain eye contact away from the throbbing wound.

"I won't tell anyone by the way."

She turned her head towards Hector. "What?"

"No one needs to know what happened." He explained. "I'll keep quiet about Barton. But, can I offer some advice?" She nodded, acknowledging the question. "Get the hell out. As soon as possible. Sooner or later they will find out what really happened, and when they do, they will hunt you down and kill you. Any trace of failure, they will destroy it."

Her stomach dropped. He definitely didn't sugarcoat it. . She wasn't sure if being her father's daughter would save her from an execution, but she wasn't going to test that theory.

"I need a plan." She declared.

Suddenly, Hector's stopped moving, pausing the stitching process. Ayla noticed his eyes became distant for a moment. He let out a sigh through his nose and rose up from his seat, marching towards another desk that was nearby. His hand reached into a cabinet retrieving a pen and small paper. Ripping a piece from the paper, he scribbled something onto it. Ayla scrunched her eyebrows together, tilting her head up in curiosity.

"Here," He said as he returned back, handing her the paper.

Ayla observed the paper, hesitantly taking it. It had a series of numbers on it. "It's a phone number." She realized.

"When you get out, make a call to that number. They'll help you settle into a new life." Her dry blood printed thumb unconsciously brushed over the paper.

"Who does the number belong to?"

Hector returned to his seat, and continued the stitching. "Someone who helped me along the way." Her eyebrows furrowed as she gave him an uncertain look. "Trust me." Hector added. She nodded slowly as her eyes stared at the series of numbers. Hector applied an antibacterial cream to the wound. "If you're smart enough and careful enough, you could possibly be off their radar… for good. Just get as far as you can."

"I have to go back."

Hector's hand twitched almost dropping the sterilized needle. "What? Are you crazy?"

"I need my father to believe I went through with it."

"It's suicide."

"If you go back without me my father will hold you responsible for what happened. He'll become suspicious of you. He'll have nothing but your word and we both know that won't be enough. But if I return with you, and we both have the same story, it'll buy me some time."

"Time for what?"

In that moment, everything came to her in a rush. Her sense of purpose grew significantly in only a matter of seconds. "To shut it all down."

"Kid, what are you talking about?"

She leaned forward with a sense of urgency. "Hector, how long has my father's business been running?"

"About thirty years."

"Thirty years of assassinations going under the authorities' noses. I've seen the files Hector. The photos. All of it."

"How did you-"

"Years of solitude gets you places. My point is, what if we shut the whole operation down?"

"You're talking about bringing down a thirty year operation within a matter of what? A few days? A few weeks? Months? Before they find out what happened?"

"Little by little with a carefully constructed strategy I can create some damage from within. They're constantly defending outside threats, they wouldn't be looking inside their own unit."

Hector stood abruptly, continually shaking his head. He pointed his finger at her and spoke with a reproaching tone. "Listen to me. Your best plan is to leave and never be seen again. Start over. Why the hell would you want to risk your life by tearing down a fully active operation of hit men?"

"Because I'm tired of it!" She yelled as she shot up from her seat to face Hector. "I am tired of standing by and doing nothing. I'm tired of being absolutely helpless when I hear the screams of their victims. My father's people have killed for amusement. They've taken advantage of my abilities for their gain. Do you have any idea what my father ordered his men to do? To me?" Her stomach twisted into a knot. "To my mom?"

Hector eyes softened as he took a few steps back. "I don't need an idea."

"That's right. You stood by and did nothing."

"There was no way I could help, you have to understand-"

"Spare me your excuses. My anger isn't with you. I'm well aware that some of the people who work for my father don't have the luxury to say no. If believing you have no choice helps you sleep at night then that's your business. But my way to cope is by taking a stand. Destroying from the inside." Hector's hesitation was evident, but it didn't create doubt in her head. "You don't need to be on my side. You don't need to help me. I wouldn't even blame you if you chose your loyalty to my father over my rebellion. The only thing that I'll ask of you, is to look the other way. Act like this conversation never happened." She reached a hand out towards Hector. "Do I have your silence?"

This moment of vulnerability could set Ayla's next course into action. A man like Hector wasn't mischievous like Damien, her father's right hand man. She knew she could trust him enough to follow his own belief, whether that was to keep his silence, or to turn her in. At least it would give her a head start.

He accepted her hand shake. "Ayla Sawyer… You have my full cooperation." Ayla's lips tinted into a grin. Their promise on collaboration was sealed as their hands shook. "It would help to have an escape plan just in case things go south." Hector added.

"I don't have an escape plan. But I know someone who does."

* * *

Loki no longer had the concept of time in his unsettling cell. Days were beginning to fade into weeks. He had lost count of how long they had kept him caged up. Keeping him hostage seemed more like an amusement to his captors rather than security. His eyes, as heavy as they felt, noticed faint red stains in the other cells surrounding him. Delightful to know that others were in good hands during their stay.

Ayla had yet to return. In her absence, Loki had noticed the men treating him differently. Instead of their infernal, snide comments, Loki was now met with blissful silence. Ayla's false statement about him being a Scandinavian Prince was apparently benefiting him. For now at least.

Unfortunately, the inexact title did not improve the food brought to him. As the excessive days passed, Loki's energy decreased significantly. Gaining his powers back were a necessity, but he felt so weak, even sitting up in his cot took an immense amount of effort. His eyes traveled to the new tray of food left for him. Reconsidering his situation, eating the unpleasant sustenance seemed like the only way to acquire his strength back. After giving a grimaced scowl at the tray, he finally decided, he needed to eat.

He stood, sauntering towards the tray. A plastic wrap surrounded it, keeping everything tightly in place. The tray stood on a small opening in between the cell bars, precisely made for food trays it appears. After a few brutal minutes of consuming the unrecognizable nutrients Loki's stomach turned uncomfortably. But the deed was done. And now, to get rid of the memory of him eating the repelling mush Midguardians called food, Loki decided to sleep.

He returned to his metal cot, slowly holding his body as he laid down. With an arm behind his head, Loki's senses began to drift. And his mind, through his dreams, become abnormally vivid.

* * *

_He stood in front of the casket that once belonged to the Frost Giants. His hands grasped it carefully, preparing for a burn. Expecting some sort of unnatural pain. But instead, the power from the casket seemed all too familiar to Loki. In a way he's never felt before. His skin tinted blue, his eyes were as scarlet as blood, and a collection of marks appeared on his skin. _

_"Stop!" Odin's voice in his dream was as clear as the memory that continues to haunt him. It all reappeared in an evanesce. _

_"The casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?"_

_The Allfather stood before him, his calm demeanor told Loki everything. He knew this was a discussion Odin had been preparing for. _

_"I thought we could unit our kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance. Bring about a permanent peace. Through you. But those plans no longer matter."_

_Loki's broken truth radiated through his eyes. Hurt crossed his heart, then perplexity, followed by realization, and ultimately, anger soon filled his soul. Soon all of the lies and betrayal consumed him. Loki no longer mattered. Odin had promised him a throne he could never claim._

_"So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here, until you might have use of me?!" _

_It all became so clear to him. The constant praise of Thor's glory. All while Loki stood in his shadow, never given a chance by his peers, by his people, by his father. Odin raised him as a treaty of peace, as a device against war… as nothing more than an object for his own gain. Thor, on the other hand was born to fit the role of a king. Loki was told he was his brother's equal. But that was a lie. Everything was a lie. His entire identity had shattered into crystals. His Asgardian heritage was false. His parents were never his to begin with. His chance for recognition was overshadowed by the horrifying truth kept from him all these years. _

_"There is always a purpose to everything your father does." Frigga's soft words echoed. Loki desperately searched for his mother, the only golden light in his life. But all he saw was darkness. _

_His eyes began to adjust to the setting before him, recognizing the deathly blue realm his true ancestors came from. Tall figures surrounded him. Beading red eyes glaring into his being. _

_"You are one of us." Laufey's voice appeared._

_Suddenly, the large Frost Giants lunged towards where Loki stood. They all raced at an aggressively fast pace. _

_Run! Flee! Protect yourself! He commanded his body to move, yet he stood still. Helplessly, he stood there, watching the army of Jotuns race towards him. Instinctively, he closed his eyes, waiting for the deathly impact. But after moments of not feeling a single hand laid on him, he opened his eyes seeing the Jotuns running around him. They weren't running towards him to attack. They were running away from an attack. **His** attack._

_In the distance, Loki saw the Bifrost cast destruction upon Jotunheim. Screams and chaos filled his ears. Giants were fleeing, the screams grew louder, the ground below Loki's feet shook vigorously. But all he could do was watch his act of war._

_Suddenly, the scene before him changed. Dust and thick heat filled the air. The unexpected sun caused Loki to squint. He soon saw the faces of mortals. Faces of fear as chaos followed them. They were all desperately escaping from the Destroyer he had sent to Earth. _

_Images of both events bombarded his mind. He saw the humans from Midgard running in terror away from the Destroyer. He saw the Frost Giants escaping their deaths from the Bifrost. Both acts of war equally caused by him. _

_And in the middle of it all, stood his mother. "Loki, how could you have done this?" There was a look in her eyes he had never received from her before. It was the look of terror. _

_"Mother," He moved towards her, only for her to flinch back. Her expression of horror pierced through his heart as she gazed at him with wide eyes. "I was trying to protect Asgard. Protect you! I did what had to be done." But his words only caused her to create more distance between them._

_"She finally sees you for the monster you really are." Laufey's voice taunted him. Again, Loki reached his hand out towards his mother, but she fearfully ran from him. He stood as still as death, watching Frigga run to his brother Thor. His arms embraced her, protected her but his eyes were as devious as ever as they stared back at Loki. Thor released Frigga and sauntered towards Loki in a gloating stance he knew all too well._

_"You were never meant to rule Loki." He started. "You are only meant for petty tricks, unamusing mischief and daunting chaos. You are a failure. A lost cause to father and a disappointment to mother. You, my little brother, will forever be nothing!" _

_Loki screamed as he lunged towards Thor, only to fall through an illusion and tumble off of a cliff. Loki felt himself falling at a massive speed. The air stung his eyes. His heart dropped to his feet. His screams erupted from his lungs. His body was seconds away from destructively crashing to the ground. _

_Thor's voice returned. "Loki, you're as good as dead."_

Gasping, Loki bolted up, drenched in sweat. Heavy breaths filling the air in his cell. He felt a twist in his stomach from the vivid images. His arm aggressively rubbed the sweat onto his sleeve. Every night his dreams had become more evocative, and he didn't understand why.

Finally, his breaths had normalized as his eyes adjusted, realizing the room was in utter darkness. The lights being turned off was the only way to tell it was still nightfall. The darkness was enough reassurance for him to return to sleep. Hopefully this time, with no dreams to disturb his conscience.

* * *

Loki's eyes slowly opened, the heaviness of his eyelids reminded him of his lack of sleep last night. In his groggy state, he remained on the metal cot, hoping sleep would soon return. But, he couldn't shake the feeling of someone being near him. His head turned to the side. He captured the view of a certain ivory haired woman sitting afar from him with a book spread open on her lap. She was wistfully engaged in her reading.

"You've returned." The sound of his early husky voice caused Ayla to peer up from her book.

"I have." She said simply, tucking a strand of snow white hair behind her ear.

"Well enough. I was beginning to fear I'd perish from utter boredom."

"Is that your way of saying you missed me?" She taunted.

"I appreciate your company." He admitted. "In your absence, I have only been met with unintelligent, ill-mannered fools who do nothing but aggravate me."

"Well, just be grateful that's the only thing they do."

"I would feel grateful if I was removed from this cell, but evidently, we do not receive what we want so easily." Loki pushed his body from the cot he slept in, groaning from the stiffness throughout his body. Slowly, as he turned to place his feet on the ground, he felt a light breeze on his leg. His eyes soon noticed a tear on his leather pants, below the knee. Over his time in his cell, his clothes had become uncomfortably outworn. He has removed all of the armor, only wearing his leather pants, an emerald green long sleeve undershirt, and his boots. Every day he awoke to a new tear or rip in the fabric. He was beginning to become disgusted by his own appearance.

He gazed up and focused on Ayla as her gentle fingers turned another page in her book. The calming sight of the small woman pleased him. He truly did miss the company, but he was also left with complete solitude. "What are you reading?" He asked.

She glanced up to meet his enticing eyes. Her heart clenched when she noticed the hollowing dark circles forming under his bright blue orbs. "The Outsiders."

"Are you enjoying it?"

"It's one of my favorites. I've read it a few times actually." Loki scrunched his eyebrows forward. Catching his look of confusion, she continued. "Having so much time on your hands, you tend to reread a few books."

He nodded understanding. His eyes set upon the other books stacked on the ground by her feet. "And those?"

She followed his gaze to the books. "Other books, a few I've read, a few I haven't." Her appreciation for books slightly amused him. Apparently they shared a common interest. "And I understand how dreadful this place could be so I thought it'd be nice to offer some of my books to you. To pass the time."

"And reading literature written by mortals is supposed to entertain me during my confinement?"

"Well, you're also welcome to just stare at the ceiling during your confinement." He scowled at her comment, which only brought a slight smile to her face. "So you've finally decided to eat." She stated. "I noticed the empty tray."

"I see. Well, if you consider cold repulsive sustenance as food, then yes, I've decided to consume it nonetheless."

"Good."

Loki's eyes glared into her. "You find it amusing?"

"I find it necessary. As stubborn as you are, eating will benefit your health." Loki continued to scowl at her, but she wasn't wrong. That same fact was the reason he decided to eat after all. She had a point, but whether Loki admitted it to her or not was a different issue.

"Enlighten me. What transpired on your quest to kill?"

The look of enjoyment she had before was completely diminished. She was taken aback by his quick change of subject. "I decided not to do it. That's all."

"Oh but don't spare me from the enticing details my dear Ayla."

Every time Ayla has visited Loki, she has manipulated the cameras in some way, or she has convinced the people on watch duty to leave the room. She knew there wouldn't be video or audio evidence of her confession. But she still kept what happened to herself. "I don't wish to speak of it."

Loki grew more curious. Her silence told a different story he was slightly eager to hear, but he decided not to push the matter. "Very well. Did this simple act help you decide?"

"Decide?" She acted confused, but Ayla knew exactly what he was referring to. And based on Loki's deviant grin, he also knew that she knew. "Yes," She answered. "I have decided."

The grin on Loki's face grew. "Good girl. And your decision?"

In a huff, Ayla shut her book closed. "I have decided… to help you."

"That is kind of you, but surely there is something you want in exchange?" Loki was taunting her, he knew the situation she had put herself in, so he knew exactly what she wanted.

"You take me with you. Far away from here. I will help you escape from here. Lead you to your freedom but-"

"Only if I share that same freedom." Loki took the words from her mouth. She nodded. Satisfaction was evident on Loki's features. "Where shall we begin?"

Before Ayla could answer she noticed Loki's expression change suddenly. Something peculiar caught the God of Mischief's eyes. "Where did you find that?" He asked.

Her eyes followed his stare. He gazed upon the books Ayla had brought in, but there was a specific one that had his full attention, and she knew exactly which book he was referring to.

"It was my mother's." She answered. Her delicate fingers brushed across the spine of the mahogany hardcover. Gold inscriptions of a different language decorated the spine. Loki immediately recognized the lettering.

"Do you understand what it is?" He questioned.

"Not really. My mother gave it to me when I was a little girl. All she said was _One day you'll understand how to use it. _But I've gone through it multiple times and I still don't know what any of it means." Loki's intense stare caused Ayla to feel on edge. But soon, the realization hit her. "You know what it is, don't you?"

He slowly nodded, not removing his gaze. "When I was a child I was given a book exactly like that one." Their eyes of wonderment met. "It is an Asgardian spell book."


	9. Chapter 9

_"Come and get me!" The pitter-patter of Ayla's small feet echoed as they slapped against the wooden floor down the hallway. Giggling, she turned her head to peer over her shoulder, her aunt Sylvia was nowhere in sight. Ayla had run fast enough to lose her aunt's trail. But she still needed to hide. Excitement coursed through her as she bounced, certain she will find a good hiding place this time. _

_She slowed her steps to scan her surroundings. Instantaneously, something around the corner caught the young girl's eye. A red spark. Ayla made her way forward, only to see a few more red sparks, slowly dissolving into the air. As she turned the corner, she discovered a vibrant scarlet red glow bleeding underneath a closed door. Multiple cherry specks formed between the gap under the door. Out of a child's natural curiosity, Ayla wrapped both her tiny, pudgy hands around the doorknob to turn it. _

_As she opened the door, scarlet dotted lights sprinkled around her gracefully. Her smile widened from the lights surrounding her, she attempted to catch each spark with her hands before they whisked away into oblivion. The dark room she entered was illuminated by numerous candles of all shapes, sizes, and aromas. _

_Ayla and her family had moved into this home only a few months ago, and with her adventurous wits, she has explored every room, gazed out every window, and hid in every nook and cranny she could find. But this? This room. She had never seen before. _

_Her steps led her further inside. She saw swarms of ruby red glimmers rising from an ancient appearing book. And behind that book, was the silhouette of a person whispering unrecognizable words._

_"Mommy?"_

_Her mother's eyes shot up in surprise. Instantly, the book was closed; almost on its own; and the red specks had disappeared. _

_"Ayla! Sweetheart, what are you doing here?!"_

_"Ayla!?" Her aunt had also entered the room, calling out for her young niece. Only to find her inside this suspicious room with her mother standing there disapproved. _

_"Sylvia! You were supposed to watch her."_

_"We were playing hide and seek, she got away from me for a moment-"_

_"Mommy, what were you doing?" The child asked._

_Her mother rushed towards her and knelt down to her level. "Nothing sweetie, I was just-"_

_"What were those red lights?"_

_"Those were… It wasn't anything okay? They were just lights."_

_"But it came from that book." Ayla's small finger pointed to where her mother originally stood. Her mother struggled to find an explanation for her daughter's questions. She looked to her sister Sylvia for a form of guidance.. _

_"Amelia, I think you should tell her." Sylvia suggested._

_"Tell me what?" The young Ayla asked. _

_"She's only five years old Sylvia, she's too young." _

_"She was bound to learn sometime soon. Ayla is different from other children." Ayla felt her aunt's hands warmly hold her small shoulders. "She should know why."_

_With wide jade colored eyes, Ayla looked towards her mother with wonder. "What does she mean, mommy?"_

_Looking between her child and her sister, Amelia allowed a sigh to escape, and ultimately made a decision. She brushed a dark curl behind her daughter's ear, and caressed her small face. Standing, she held a hand out to Ayla. "Come my love, I'll show you everything."_

* * *

Loki and Ayla stood in the basement of cells in disbelief.

"An Asgardian spellbook? That's impossible." Ayla was the first to speak after long minutes of silence between her and Loki.

"My thoughts precisely." He commented.

Ayla has possessed this book from her mother since she left her home. She had hidden it and kept it safe. For no one but her to see. No one, until now.

However, even though having the book in her keep was important, understanding it wasn't as easy. Inside she saw unrecognizable symbols, strange drawings, and illegible words in a completely different language she couldn't read. It was only in her dreams that magic conjured up from the book. She didn't think much of it. The book being in her conscious state of mind didn't seem strange.

Were they not dreams after all? She wondered.

"Your mother was a witch." Loki remarked.

"Excuse me?"

"In all your childhood, has there ever been any display of magic?"

"Just in my dreams." She answered, not fully convinced of her own answer. "I used to have these dreams where my mother taught me magic. My mom and aunt used to tell me that I had a remarkable imagination, and to not look too deeply into them. But now? I can't tell if those were only dreams or… distant memories."

"What tells you that?"

She carefully pulled the wide book of spells out from the stack of novels placed beside her. Her fingers lightly caressing the pages of spells as she gazed through them. Reminiscing the smoky scent of spells, strange illuminations, and her mother's hands carefully crafting shapes in mid-air. "Just a feeling." Her eyes burned into the book.

"May I?" Loki held his hand out to her. After a moment of hesitation, Ayla nodded and leaned forward to hand him the book. He managed to pull it between the cell bars. With much observation after opening the book, he read through various pages. His eyes focused and determined.

"You don't have a clear recollection of using magic, yet you possess certain abilities now?" His eyes remained fixed on the delicate pages.

"They began when I was brought here. They ran tests on me. They…"

Her pause caused Loki to peer up. "They what?"

A lump formed in her throat. "They experimented on me." Immediately her eyes gazed upon her fumbling fingers. It was now that she realized why she trusted Loki so much. He was the only person willing to hear her. That included being the first to hear her talk about her trauma. "I don't know what they did to me. I only remember the pain. The endless unbearable pain. Eventually, after some time, these abilities I have now just… appeared. I was showing promise in their eyes. That's when the testing stopped. I was given no explanations. No reasonings. Not even from my father."

There was a tight sinking Loki had felt in his chest. Ayla's father had put her through torture and experimentation. All of that pain and for what? To transform her into a human lie detector? No, Loki knew better. Perceiving it in a strategic mindset, he knew, they held Ayla here for a special purpose and it wasn't for a small petty job. Focusing on the object at hand, quite literally, he returned to surveying the pages. He observed the writing, noticing it to be in the dialect of the primeval Nordic language. There were small notes written in a few corners that caught his attention. They were in… Latin? Loki assumed. However, he speculated on why Latin was the chosen language. If he remembered correctly, and he's certain he does, the book he had learned from as a child had no trace of the dead language.

"I wish to study this book further." His eyes met with Ayla's. "With your permission."

Her expression became hard as she chewed the inside of her mouth.

"You feel conflicted." Loki stated, obtaining Ayla's attention. "I sense it."

"I feel lost." She corrected him. "The line between imagination and reality has become unbearably thin." Her eyes became distant until realisation to Loki's words deemed on her. "You said you sense my feelings."

"Yes." Loki didn't understand the change in topic, until Ayla had continued.

"If my mother was a witch and had any connection to Asgard, would that explain why you and I feel this… connection?" Her eyes searched Loki's, in hope for at least one explanation.

He hesitated to answer her question. Loki hadn't heard of such a thing. A mortal having this type of emotional correspondence. He could understand if he was able to identify her feelings, but not vice versa. Not too long ago, Ayla's abilities led her to feel Loki's true emotions. An occurrence that mystified him. But if he was frank, he had never grown an interest in what humans were capable of. The idea that they possessed any abilities with the same origin as his abilities baffled him. Yet, here was his proof, staring intently at him with wide green eyes, desperately searching for answers. "I'm… not sure."

Ayla's expression changed from a look of longing to one of dejection. Loki wished he could understand this phenomenon between them. On Asgard, surrounded by the occasional people with a thirst for liquor rather than knowledge, he often perceived himself as the most intelligent in the room. Until his mother would enter. Loki had always felt the security of his own knowledge, but now, to Ayla, he felt helpless.

My mother would understand this. She would have the answers Ayla desires.

Ayla perched from her seat and stood in front of Loki's cell. Her hands grasped the metal bars. She knew what she wanted to say but struggled to express the words out loud. Her mouth open but silent. Loki also made his way to the cell bars, sauntering towards her, wrapping his long fingers around her hands, one by one. In that motion, she found the voice she needed.

"I want you to teach me." She requested.

"Teach you?"

"Magic. Teach it to me. As much as you can. If there is any trace of magic in my being, I want to understand it. I want to embrace it. But mostly, I want to know why my mother hid this side of herself from me. I know you can't show me that answer directly, but the closer I am to understanding that book, the closer I am to her." She grasped the cell bars tighter. "I just want to have something I can control."

Loki stood there, at a loss for words. Ayla desired to have him as her mentor, in the exact subject he found himself to be masterfully skilled at. His skills of sorcery led the Asgardians to taunt him. Nevertheless, his possession of magic shaped who he was. Sharing the artform with another person besides his mother was… a comfort. Even if he wouldn't admit it.

"We start tomorrow." Was his only response. His back turned away from her. His gazing eyes returned to the spellbook in his hands. Ayla noticed his once slicked back hair, was now an array of messy waves ending at the nape of his neck. A few strays escaped from behind his ears. They currently swayed over his eyes as he looked down with earnest focus.

A warm reassurance of stability formed within her. It was a small step, but one she deemed significant. However, her feeling faded when there was something she realized. "Why haven't you used your magic to escape?"

He stood still. Ayla couldn't see but Loki's jaw locked. His fingers tightened around the binding. With a slight movement, he turned his head towards hers, however, he refused to look directly at her. "I do not currently possess my abilities." He simply said, a hint of calm frustration etched in his voice.

"But how can you… How is that possible?"

"I do not know." The edge became more evident.

Ayla had opened her mouth to ask another question, but she stopped herself. His dark and mysterious demeanor convinced Ayla he wasn't the type to vent openly. "I didn't mean to pry."

He kept his front turned away from her. "You should meditate." He commanded.

"What?" That wasn't exactly where she had expected him to take their conversation. His body gracefully rotated to face her.

"Your first lesson. You must sit alone, everyday, in a room of seclusion. And meditate. It will enhance your focus. Focus is the one device I can not pass on. I expect you to arrive fully present and flexible."

She decided to drop the matter. "Yes sir." She said casually.

His eyes darted to hers as he grinned sinfully. "I could get used to that."

She crossed her arms in front of her. "Well, don't."

"If you ask me, I prefer the title of Master."

"I wasn't asking."

Loki licked his thin lips as he graced his eyes over her, studying her body intently. "Shame."

"There isn't much you could do from that cell anyway."

"You underestimate me." He remarked.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, gathering a few of her books. "No, Loki, I leave you. With whatever wicked thoughts your heart desires." After placing her books near his cell, in hands reach, she stood, surprised to have seen Loki only centimeters away from the metal bars. He returned to his original spot.

They both stood, staring closely at one another, Loki with a look of perseverance, and Ayla with one of trepidation.

His fingers brushed through the gaps, softly taking Ayla's hand into his. Her breath hitched from the sign of contact. She stood abnormally still as he brought her hand to his lips. Placing a feather-like kiss upon one of her knuckles. He turned her hand slowly, his mouth pressed holding the physical contact between them. As his lips traveled to her palm, he placed an open mouthed kiss to her soft skin. Her eyes stared at the interaction, her feet were planted in cement, her body tingled from the small intimate gesture. Holding full eye contact, Loki lightly brought Ayla's hand back to her side. His long index finger brushing her hip as his hand returned behind the cell. However, his trance over her only lasted a few seconds after he let go.

"Don't do that." She quietly demanded.

Loki was confused, but he kept his confident exterior. "I am unsure of what you mean."

"Yes you do. Please don't do that again." She shifted her gaze away, unable to meet his questioning eyes. "I'm asking nicely." Before Loki could utter another word to Ayla, she rushed towards the door. Leaving him bemused by her persona of firm discomfort.

Was she simply not attracted to Loki? He pondered. He could admit he wasn't at his best appearance currently.

No. That wasn't it. Loki felt something within her. An exceedingly small fraction of her that could have possibly wanted him. Longed for him even. Perhaps he misinterpreted it. But what he did was a simple gesture, not one to become hostile towards. As each day passes by in this maddening predicament, Loki finds himself amazed yet frustrated by the perplexed woman. He hadn't crossed a line, this he was sure of. She could've told him to stop at any point. She could have simply pulled her hand away. But she didn't. She locked eyes with him the entire time, a look of desire flashing across those sea green eyes of hers.

No, Loki refused to feel guilty about this. He hadn't done anything wrong...or so he tried to believe.


	10. Chapter 10

The balmy breeze of the morning coated Ayla's bare arms and neck. The weather was rather comfortable compared to the scorching heat that generally overlayed the Arizonan air. It was an underestimated time of the day. Being out at this time usually calmed Ayla; eyes were yet to be opened, covers yet to be tossed away. A handful of assassins yet to be awakened.

She thought it was the perfect time to be alone.

She was restricted to go outside of the compound, at least on her own. Her mission with Hector was her only gateway to the outside world. However, there were enough acres of land for her to roam around. It was one of the very few things she could genuinely enjoy about being there.

Today, she awoke with the need to challenge herself. And she planned on doing that by perfecting a certain skill, one she's developed in recent years and ultimately had become one of her favorite ways to pass the time. Knife throwing.

Carefully, she grasped the cold metal. Since her arrival, her father has insisted on teaching her different skill sets. Some weren't to her liking. But apparently, she enjoyed this one. It improved her focus. As a bonus, she found it to be a helpful distraction.

Ayla constructed her body to maintain the right posture. The heavy heel of her boots crushed into sand coated ground as she tried to assemble the correct stance. She managed to eyeball a good fifteen feet between her and the marked tree. Her eyes squinted, focusing on the target she had jaggedly carved into the bark. The wind swept thin strands of her hair over her eyes, which she flipped away to regain focus.

With a firm grip on the handle, her eyes glanced between the target and the end of the blade. Her thick lips shaped into a small oval, blowing an air of tension out of her body. With her wrist locked, she threw the knife from her hand and straight towards the tree, striking it with a deep cut which held the knife in place.

Five inches away from the bullseye.

Not good enough.

A sigh of disappointment escaped Ayla. She made her way forward to retrieve the dagger. The tightness of her two french braids were beginning to irritate her as the wind grazed against her baby hairs. However, she often pulled her hair back into tight braids or high ponytails. With effort, she managed to pull the knife from the tree bark. Her careful fingers softly brushed away shards and needles of wood. She began picking at the tip of her knife with her nails.

But she stopped. Her eyes suspiciously gazed up as she felt an eerie presence.

She turned her body to see Damien standing before her, with a smug expression on his face. Her eyes rolled and her sigh was one of exasperation. She returned to picking the tiny fragments of wood off her blade.

"You're up early." He stated. Her eyes didn't even bother looking up. "Couldn't sleep?"

"What do you want Damien?"

"To make sure you're okay?"

"Funny."

"What's so funny about that?"

"I didn't think you were capable of showing compassion to anyone but yourself." Her eyes searched for any pins or needles she might've missed.

"You'd be surprised." He eyed her up and down as she maintained focus on her task. The independent woman before him didn't seem too interested in his presence, or so she tried to convey. Her detachment was a usual reaction to him. That, and just pure annoyance of his entire existence. "I'm just worried about you, is all, Harley."

Her eyes shot up. Hearing the name Harley shook her. She'd become used to Loki's sultry voice saying her real name Ayla.

Wait. Sultry? She found Loki's voice sultry?

"Listen, kid, I just want you to be alright."

"I can take care of myself." Pushing past him, Ayla returned to her original spot where she stood before. "I don't need a babysitter." With focus, she observed the ground once again, ensuring she was stepping in the same place. The only problem was the inconvenience of the man standing right in front of her target. "You want to do yourself a favor and not be in my throwing range?"

He took the hint and stepped out of her focal point. His footsteps proceeded to stand behind her, only for her to stop him. "Not behind me." She called out. "Somewhere I can see you."

"God, woman, I'm not going to hurt you. Do you really trust me that little?"

"I don't trust you at all, quite frankly." The knife swished from her hand and carved itself into the wood, regrettably farther from Ayla's last mark. Her nose huffed in her own frustration as she went to fetch the dagger.

"Even after all these years?" He derisively questioned. "All that time training together?"

"I was forced to push my body past it's breaking point just to amuse my father and his circle of insolent criminals. All you did was stand next to me as it happened." She tugged the blade out from the bark. "I wouldn't call that training together."

"But it made you who you are now, didn't it? A skilled asset."

"You sound like my father." Ayla returned to her place, adjusting her stance, hoping it would affect her throwing. "You must be so proud."

Damien squinted his dark eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." She muttered.

"Come on. What? You're shy all of a sudden? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His voice raised, as it did occasionally.

She scoffed. "Please. You've worked hard to prove your loyalty to him. Not just a replaceable tool. You're willing to be at his beck and call, no questions asked. Which is exactly what he wants in anyone who works for him. A simple minded servant." Another throw into the tree. She was closer to the center of the bullseye, but not quite there.

"At least he has someone who admires him." He furthered his steps, standing repugnantly close, but Ayla stood her ground. "It's better than being betrayed by your own flesh and blood."

Her eyes met his, she could see that he was searching for a reaction, but she remained naturally still. "As his daughter, I can tell you exactly how it feels to be betrayed by your own flesh and blood."

He chuckled. "Must be hard for daddy to see potential in you. Work hard to build you up. Being the center of his universe. Sounds real tough."

Her eyes glared at him hard, but she swallowed the lump forming in her throat and decided to ignore his ignorance. She shoved him away. Her goal that morning was to train not to be torn down. But Damien obviously had a different objective.

"How's our jailbird doing?" He asked, far too enthusiastically.

"Considering he's still held in a cage against his will? He's fantastic." She remarked.

"Well that's great to hear. Honestly it is. You guys have gotten quite close. Maybe a little too close considering the circumstances."

"What does it matter, Damien?"

Slowly, he took his steps towards her. "It's just something I've observed." He intertwined his fingers together, Ayla knew it was something he did whenever he was about to interrogate someone. His actions were all too familiar to her.

He circled around her, dirty blond curls covering his roguish eyes. "Spending so much time with the guy, I'd assume you've already gathered your information, right? Because that was all you had to do. Ask him a few questions, get him to spill some secrets. See if he's lying. Well, our friend has been here for quite a long time. Surely, you've come to a conclusion."

"Conclusion?" He took his daunting stride towards her.

"Well, of course. In your honest opinion, what should we do with our prisoner?"

She held her hand up, stopping his unnerving pace. "Do we need to discuss this now?"

"I think talking about it is long overdue."

This time she took the intimidating action forward. Strutting towards him with her knife held dangerously close to his neck. "You forget, you don't tell me what to do. You can pretend to be a leader all you want, but you're too busy begging for attention instead of growing some balls of your own."

His face twitched.

Ayla almost smiled from the little reaction. The knife was brought down. She had begun to turn away until Damien suddenly launched his arms forward, grabbing Ayla. One hand gripping her wrist and the other around her neck. Gasping, she attempted to have a firm grip on her blade, but he twisted her hand, causing her to drop it completely. He pushed her forward, stepping significantly away from her only source of a weapon. He pushed her onto the ground, kneeling above her with his hand still wrapped around her throat.

She had trained for this. She had prepared for this. She knew exactly what she needed to do. Yet, in her predicament of danger, Ayla drew a blank. Her body was not reacting as she wanted. As she needed. Her nails attempted to dig into the flesh of his fingers that were strangling her, but he didn't loosen his grip at all. If anything, it motivated him to clutch harder. Her legs kicked from under him.

There wasn't anger in his eyes as she had expected. Instead, to her surprise, she saw satisfaction creeping behind his wide black eyes. It jump-started her heart into absolute fear.

After a few more seconds of his agonizing hold, he released her completely. Ayla turned over, coughing and gasping for breath. Clutching onto her free neck.

Damien walked over to the knife she had dropped. Picked it up and placed it in his pocket. Ayla sat up on her hands and knees. Her coughing lessened, heaving air into her body as if it would be taken from her again. She remained there in shock of what had just transpired. Even when Damien had knelt down to her level, she had stayed completely and abnormally still.

"Let me give you some advice." He began. "Don't challenge me. Don't try to be smart. Because in the end, if something were to happen, who do you think they're going to trust? You or me?" To his amusement she didn't answer his question. "You were right before. We didn't train together. You were and still are just a simple science project that your father grew bored of. I, on the other hand, am an actual trained asset with an impressive skill of making murders look like accidents. I'm sure you know that."

With one finger, he traced a line on her shoulder. Her lip trembled with disgust. "Not only are you smart Harley, but you're beautiful. So it would be a shame if that pretty mouth of yours got you into trouble. I'd advise keeping your thoughts to yourself from now on." His thumb and forefinger reached up to Ayla's chin. His fingers lingered for a moment before forcing her to look up at him. She bit the inside of her cheek to cease her trembling lips.

He gazed at every feature of her face. He held her in an almost possessive stare. She felt repulsed by his predatory eyes scanning her. Finally, he released his grasp of her face, pushing it out of his view.

He stood, brushing off any sand, weeds, or dirt on his clothes. The next course of action was to saunter away in full pride, but he felt compelled to declare one final statement. "Have fun with your boy toy, because he's not going to be around much longer. I can promise you that." With satisfaction coursing through his being, Damien left, certain he had gotten his point across.

When Damien was finally out of earshot and view, Ayla began rubbing her hand over her neck, hoping to wipe the attack away. Uncontrollably, tears ran down her cheeks as she began to sob. Even though she was given her breath back, she couldn't get rid of the feeling that she was drowning. Not seen. Lost. Out of air. Close to demise.

The tipping point was close, she felt it. But she needed to stay strong. She refused to be shaken by the actions of a man's overbearing ego. But… she was shaken. The fear was evident in her eyes, in her body. The same body that had betrayed her in her moment of absolute need. Trained for self defense only to be left utterly defenseless.

In that precise moment, she swore to herself, this will be the last time she would feel defenseless.

A few days had passed since Loki had seen Ayla, he was starting to become unsettled. During their last encounter, he may have overstepped an unknown boundary of hers. Placing a kiss on her soft skinned hand. She had requested firmly to never let it happen again. But he wasn't letting it bother him. Why should it? He hadn't crossed a line. It wasn't his fault the woman held strong walls that were impossibly high.

However, he thought, it also wasn't her fault.

During the lonely days Loki unwillingly remained in his cell, he remained accompanied only by the novels Ayla had left for him. Nevertheless, he had only become interested in one book, the grand story-teller of them all. Her mother's book of spells. In his time, he had read it entirely. Two, four, possibly even six times. It was identical to the exact book Loki had practiced all of his magic with. Even as confusion blurred his understanding, he was still dawned with fond memories from his childhood.

Spending early mornings in the garden with his mother as she had passed her technique of sorcery onto him. He valued every single lesson with his mother. As a matter of fact, he valued every second with her. Loki wistfully recalled being distracted by other matters of importance towards the end of his time on Asgard. He had become… distant. From her, from Thor, from everybody. As soon as the responsibilities of the Asgardian Princes came into play, Loki had always found himself unsatisfied with his amount of control, influence, and authority. Odin would assign Thor matters that had involved other worlds. Grand tasks and opportunities that benefited Thor. Loki was given matters regarding smaller villages in Asgard. The tasks that were easily forgotten after being given. Thor would learn the techniques of being a King by Odin himself. Loki was instructed to only appear at certain events as a representation of the royal family. Soon, Odin, as wise as everyone had sworn him to be, had seen the evident discontent in Loki. However, instead of simply asking his son what was the reasoning behind his grievances, he had instead removed Loki entirely from his tasks. Leaving and entrusting Thor with all matters. Shaping him to become responsible enough for the throne.

The neglect had pushed Loki away. He had disappeared into the shadows, where, soon enough, he believed was where he belonged. For his entertainment, his magic was used for tricks. His deceiving persona became an interesting role to play. His wickedness had become the only sense of control he had felt on Asgard. Eventually, he had grown accustomed to it. But, deep in his core, Loki still longed for recognition from his father. Over the years, he had seen Thor less and less fit for the throne as each day passed on.

When the announcement of Thor's coronation came upon them, Loki decided to take matters to a new level. Leading to the Frost Giants trespassing, Thor's banishment, the Allfather's slumber, Loki's short moments of rule, and a harsh realization - Loki, no matter how prepared and qualified he was for the throne, it was never meant to be his.

The events that had only transpired a few weeks prior felt as though it were thousands of years ago. A different time completely. But the emotion wasn't strong enough to persuade his feelings of failure to disappear. The wounds were too fresh to ignore.

The last thread Loki held to his father was utterly torn, with no plans of stitching their relationship back together. The old man could burn alive and Loki wouldn't flinch. His days of proving himself are long gone. From now on, he will decide if he has been satisfied. He is the only one in charge of his own disappointments and accomplishments. They are no longer meant for his family or for all of the disguised Hell known as Asgard.

And in that precise moment, Loki would be completely satisfied with the presence of a certain angel haired mortal.

The coloring of the bruise hadn't faded as much as Ayla had wished. Her fingers brushed around the amethyst colors blending in into each other with spurs of red and spots of yellow. A few days had passed and it was worse than she thought. Her eyes gazed upon the bruise through the reflection of the bathroom mirror in front of her.

"Shit." Covering it with makeup could help. If only she had owned makeup, but ultimately she didn't.

The edges of the sink were gripped by her tense fingers and every part of her body felt locked into place. She hated this. She absolutely hated looking like this. Bruised up. Powerless. And perhaps even afraid.

Staying in her room wasn't an option. She needed to proceed forward, getting closer to leaving this dreadful place full of it's dreadful people. All, with the exception of one. God, what would Loki think of her? Perhaps he'd think of her as another simple defenseless human. Because that's exactly how she was feeling.

Jade colored orbs stared back at their owner, wondering if the thought of escape was too good to be true. Ayla hoped it wasn't, but she realized due to recent events, they were watching her every move. After years of isolation, she figured she had blended in, but apparently not. Not by one person at least. Unfortunately, nothing got past Damien, and knowing his intentions, if Ayla stepped one toe out of line, he wouldn't hesitate in selling her out.

Evidently, she had come to the harsh realization that a normal life just wasn't in the cards for her, but it wasn't too late for Loki. But if she wanted to save him then keeping him at a distance is the only way to do it. He wouldn't like it but she figured he'd get over it once he's on the other side of the fence.

If Damien was willing to put his hands on Ayla, to threaten her, then there's no question that he….they would do far worse to Loki. She could spare his life by sacrificing her opportunity for freedom. It was a loss she has already prepared to have. But, she couldn't shake the urge to stay near Loki. He was the first to offer her freedom. Multiple hostages came in and out, begging for their lives, praying for a light at the end of the tunnel. Of course, they only saw her as an accomplice to their kidnapping and ultimately, their murders. But with Loki…. He saw her. The simple fact that he thought of her warmed an unfamiliar part of her soul.

But for his survival, she had to let that go.

The sound of creaky metal from the door had shook Loki from his thoughts. The familiar smell of lavender hinted at his nose, immediately bringing him tranquility. From his seated position, he looked over, genuinely blithe to see Ayla, but the feeling had vanished as quickly as they came.

Contrary to the everlasting heat, she had been bundled up by a thick black hoodie hugging around her waist and neck. Her unusually messy ivory hair cascaded freely around her shoulders. Straight from the roots, but ending in glossed curls. However, as she stood before Loki, her fingers continuously tugged strands behind both of her ears. He had also, to his concern, noticed her full, swollen eyes tainted red. Ayla attempted to stand high, Loki saw this. Her usual persona of easy self-assurance didn't seem to appear, it was replaced with an affected, fake confidence

"What happened?" He immediately questioned.

She pretended to appear confused. "Nothing happened."

Something happened.

"I hadn't seen you." Loki stated.

"I've been busy."

"I see. I was beginning to believe you've forgotten about your favored prisoner."

Not even a smile and she refused to meet his eyes.

"I can't come down here anymore," she blurted.

This caused Loki to rise. "And why is that?"

"They're starting to suspect. Our little visits have become unusually often in their eyes. Sooner or later, they'll figure out what's going on." Her strained eyes met his. "They will kill you, Loki."

"Let them try."

"Don't you understand? These people are being paid to commit one of the most severely punishable crimes. They are paranoid. They have eyes everywhere. If there is a single person they do not trust, they will immediately wipe them out with no reasoning besides having a gut feeling. We're already being looked at suspiciously. If my father figures out what's going on, who knows what he's capable of doing."

"And what precisely is going on Ayla? What is this exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are these little visits truly only to devise a scheme to slip away? I am not sure if it's been brought to your attention but we have still yet to discuss the first course of our plot. This has passed our mutual need to break out. Or am I wrong?"

Truthfully, Ayla hadn't noticed that they had occupied their time with talking about anything but the actual heist to freedom. "Does it matter?" She asked defensively.

"Perhaps I am more than that. Only a source of distraction. To divert you from your daily regime of constant loneliness."

That one stung. "You know, contrary to your pessimistic belief, I am actually trying to help you."

"By surrendering."

"Surrendering? I'm not a warrior, Loki."

"Clearly."

"Why do I bother explaining myself to you?" There wasn't a point to this, the fact was that she couldn't see him, he just had to deal with it. He could start by watching her walk away right in that moment.

"You're afraid." He called out, causing her to stop in her tracks. "You feel fear. It's why you're pushing away any action of rebellion. Because it led to the bruises on your neck."

Her shoulders had tightened up.

He continued. "You have reason to be scared Ayla. You are not safe. As we stand in an underground dungeon, surrounded by cells of confinement, this is the time to leave. You will constantly be in danger if you stay. I need you to see that."

She bit down on her shaky lip. As covered as she had attempted to be, she still felt completely bare to him. Guarding everything had become second nature. But perhaps, after years of pushing all of her emotions deep inside, years of silently crying when no one was in sight, had ultimately created a need within her to completely fall apart. To not keep everything together. To just not be okay. She wanted the right to break down.

Suddenly, her strong stance she had fought to keep all these years, became too heavy to withhold. She was one straw away from crashing down completely.

Ayla turned back to face Loki, who had now stood directly next to the metal bars. In slow steps, she had met with him, maintaining eye contact. Her body stood centimeters away from his cell. She reached up and tugged on the neck of her sweater, pulling it down to reveal the intensity of her bruised neck. Everything in Loki stayed completely still, except for his eyes that had increased in shape. But Ayla could've sworn she saw a slight twitch in his face.

"This is what happens when I rebel." Her whisper shook. Loki eyes scanned madly over each and every spot of discoloration.

"Who did this?"

A sigh escaped her lips as she pulled the material of clothing over the exposed skin. "It doesn't matter, the point is-"

"Was it that cretin who has built an obsession over you?"

"Obsession? What do you mean?"

"Damien. That swine sees you as his possession." He growled.

"Why do you say that, Loki?"

He remained silent.

"Loki, answer my question-"

"Because it's obvious," his long, pale fingers tightened around the rusty metal bars. "When you had left on your task, he came here. Confronted me. Suspicious. He claimed he was going to uncover what was transpiring, but I didn't believe he'd take it… to this extent.."

"You knew he was suspicious and you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't see reason to. But now?" There it was again, that twitch in Loki's face, Ayla was positive she saw it that time. "He'll be the first to die."

"An endless cycle of bloodshed."

"If that is what it comes to then so be it."

Her voice raised, "and that is the exact mentality I want to escape from."

Loki opened his mouth to speak again, but evidently, decided against commenting. She was right, she wasn't a warrior, she was a woman who deserved a life full of choices, full of love, full of achievement. Warriors volunteer, prisoners are confined.

"I don't know what to do." Her trembling voice whispered. Her eyes became distant.

Instinctively, he grabbed her hand. "Trust me."

She flinched subconsciously and stepped away from him. Loki felt a shot strike into his heart, but he soon understood. "I apologize, I should've warned you, or-"

"I don't want to be someone who needs warnings, Loki." When his eyes gazed up to look into hers he was only met with shut eyelids. Ayla clutched her hand to her chest as she let out a frustrated sigh. "I'll get over it." She stated as her eyes reopened, all vulnerability forced away. She wasn't one to connect with her emotions in front of others naturally. The desire to break down wasn't strong enough to overpower her need to put on the image of a stable fearless woman.

However, for a split second Loki saw that vulnerability. He knew how difficult it was to allow someone to see your weak points. Afraid they'll see you as less of a person. Especially on Asgard, where strength was the only attribute society would base your worth on. That and the title of royalty, which was the only trait that gave Loki forced respect from the people of Asgard. But now he truly saw that it was all just a facade. But this? What Ayla interacts with every single moment, it doesn't even give the luxury of a facade to be distracted by. It's an absolute nightmare that puts her in undeniable danger.

"I've read through your mother's spellbook. Perhaps there are a few alternatives to help us."

Ayla leaned on the wall across from Loki's cell, still not meeting his eyes. "Like what?" She couldn't imagine how anything could help their predicament.

"There are spells of bonding. They are mostly practiced between experienced sorcerers. However, we might be able to succeed if we attempt it. There are bonds where we could meet each other in our subconscious."

Her eyes shifted to his. "In our dreams?"

"Possibly. However, spells such as those can be quite complicated. It is difficult for both individuals to maintain control of what transpires in our dreams."

"So what does that mean?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Ayla. With me, you will always have a choice."

Her body shifted, tension suddenly released. She didn't even know her body was tense in the first place. She began to nod. "I trust you."

The pure bliss of hearing those words extended into Loki's natural smile. A sigh of reassurance was released before Loki could stop it. He couldn't really understand why it felt easily relaxing to be around Ayla, especially given the circumstances.

"So how does it work?" She questioned. "The spell."

He was brought back to reality. "You'll need an object." Her dark brows furrowed. "An object to guide me to you. For convenience sake, it should be an article you wear easily."

"Like jewelry."

"Precisely. For a stronger bond, it requires sentimental value from at least one of the individuals involved in the conjuration. The sentimental value would connect our souls."

Her face twisted at his choice of wording.

He rolled his eyes at his own phrasing. "It appears irrational, I'm aware, but the book is almost indistinguishable to the one my mother had used for our lessons."

Her face softened at the mention of his mother. And in that moment, it oddly helped.

In a way, Ayla slightly understood the reasoning behind Loki's explanation. To sum it up, they needed an object that meant something to at least one of them, to give to the other, but the steps after that were still a mystery to Ayla. But she still reached into the back pocket of her ripped jeans.

"Would this work?"

Immediately, Loki casted his eyes upon a gold chain dangling in between Ayla's snow kissed fingers. In the center of the chain was a pristine opal with two golden crescent moons on each side. Surrounding the opal were small individual stars, each containing a small glimmering stone.

"Where did-"

"It was my mother's," she paused, "she gave it to me for my fifth birthday. One of my first memories is this necklace." Her eyes looked over the necklace fondly. "I've kept it this whole time." Snapping her gaze back, "Would it work?"

"I believe so." Loki slowly reached his fingers towards the chain, but Ayla pulled back slightly, protective of the jewelry. "Ayla, I understand this necklace possesses sentimental value. Please, trust me."

She stared between Loki and her mother's necklace. No one has even laid a finger on this necklace. But, she said she trusted Loki, because she meant it. Due to this, she gently held the jewelry over Loki's hand, which he had opened to retrieve the dangling necklace. Carefully obtaining it, Loki's head leaned down to examine the piece of jewelry. The rusted chain expressed the passing years, the golden crescent moons shining into his eyes. And then there was the opal itself, no bigger than the tip of his pinkie, with pastel swirls of pink, tints of electric green, and streaks of oranges and blues. It all blended beautifully together, with a clouding base color of periwinkle.

"I need to obtain it for the night." Loki stated.

"What?"

His eyes never strayed from studying the necklace. "It is apparent you have a bond with it, which is beneficial to our exploration. However, I as well, need to form an attachment. Wearing it for one night will help me understand the value. Concentrate on why this piece of jewelry isn't like any other for you

I guess it did make sense, Ayla figured. It still didn't make the process of leaving her necklace behind any easier. "You really think it will help conjure the spell?"

His determined eyes met hers that were full of doubt. "Absolutely."

Her very heart was currently beating in Loki's palm. The embodiment of her childhood she desperately missed each and every day.

"Okay." She decided. "Whatever it takes to get out."

"Thank you."

"But just know, that book," she pointed towards the book of spells currently opened on Loki's sleeping cot. "And that necklace, are the only things I have from her. I want them returned as they were given to you."

Loki smirked, amused by Ayla's sense of authority. "I believe you'll find them to be of more value once they are rightfully returned to you."

"Whatever that means."

He chuckled. "There is one other thing."

"And that is?"

His face grew soft, he placed a few steps closer to the cell bars and leaned his body against them. "Tell me what your mother was like."

That wasn't a request Ayla was expecting Loki to ask for. "You want to know about my mother?"

He stared down at the Opal in his palm. "Perhaps knowing the significance behind your sentimental possession will further my attachment to the gem." His head leaned up to meet Ayla's eyes. "And to perhaps further my understanding of you."

Ayla searched his eyes for a catch. Anything to show any trace of deception. "You want to understand me."

"In and out."

"For the sake of the spell."

He grinned slyly. "If you want to see it that way."

"Then can I make a request?" He nodded for her to continue. "Can you tell me about your life on Asgard? The things you went through? Why you left?"

A lump suddenly formed in his throat. "Why would you wish to know such things?"

"Because I want to know you."

"Because you need to trust who you're plotting with?"

She gave him a playful smirk. "If you want to see it that way." He returned the smirk, simultaneously biting his bottom lip while winking, to which received an eye roll and a light kick to his foot. Her eyes glanced down to the palm carrying her necklace. She stared in amusement as she saw Loki's thumb caressing circles around the gem, seeing her most prized possession being physically kept in good hands.

"Okay," she began, meeting his eyes once again, "Ask me anything."


	11. Chapter 11

The hour had changed. The heat had cooled down. As time went by the moon emerged from the absence of the day. And through words and reminiscences, the bond between Loki and Ayla began to dig deeper.

Loki had brought up the topic of her mother to truly understand the sentiment behind Ayla's necklace. The adored jewelry was currently held in Loki's hand, caressed by his thumb. He sat against the metal cot in his cell. Occasionally leaning his body into their conversation. Smiling when Ayla expressed warmth as she remembered her mother. As he sat one of his legs bent by the knee while the other laid straight. Ayla, on the other side of the cell, leaned on the cement wall. Her knees pulled up comfortably to her chest. She felt relaxed as Loki's eyes engaged with hers.

"Was she kind?" He asked softly.

Ayla smiled and nodded. "Without a doubt. She was warm, caring, patient. I thought she was perfect in every single way. Well, maybe not perfect. She wasn't the best at cooking." Loki chuckled and Ayla fondly reminisced the numerous times her mother would burn the simplest meal. But it never discouraged her, it only added another humorous story among others. Their meals were usually saved by her aunt Sylvia.

"My mom was as sweet as can be," she continued, "But you could tell she wasn't meant to be a stay at home mom."

Loki's eyebrows crinkled. "What leads you to believe that?"

"She had a wild soul, you could just tell she was meant for more. At least I believed she was."

"Do you consider motherhood insignificant?"

"Of course not. I just feel like…I held her back. She had me at a pretty young age. I kept her from living the life she dreamed of living."

"And what life would that have been?"

"Nope." Ayla shook her head playfully. "It's my turn to ask a question."

His eyes went round but he maintained a light tone and a small smile. "Very well. Proceed."

"Do you miss Asgard?"

His hands circled around, gesturing to his cell. "I miss my freedom."

Her eyes narrowed. "You know what I mean."

The smile fell. "Fine." He admitted. "I miss it in ways I had not expected to."

"What do you mean?"

Loki gave it a moment to accurately compose an answer, he hadn't exactly understood how he missed certain parts of Asgard but not others. Regardless, he attempted to present some form of a response. "For example," He began, "Every morning when I awoke, I would make my way to the balcony in my chambers. My eyes gazed at the magnificent view of our kingdom's gardens. Where a variety of people would explore. Peasants, warriors, children, servants, and occasionally the royal family."

"Your family." She casually stated.

Loki firmly spoke. "They were not my family."

"But aren't you the Prince of Asgard? How could they not be-"

"It is none of your concern." Loki's harsh words echoed from the walls. Ayla was thrown aback by his sudden hostility and his strident tone. After a few long seconds, he was able to regain his composure, allowing for the awareness of his bitterness to come to light.

"As I was saying." He spoke again, but with a lighter tone. "I didn't enjoy the view of the gardens as one typically would. Instead, I used it to my advantage." Ayla's stunned face had lessened. Loki continued. "I cast a spell to extend the perimeter of my hearing. Every morning I heard each and every conversation held within those gardens. Anyone who faced me in person would present a facade of generosity, yet when they believed no one else was listening, they could be caught saying the most atrocious statements. There were a fair amount of idiotic opinions and negligible gossip. As well as a few complaints about me. But, the mornings would pass and soon I found it to be beneficial."

"What could you possibly miss about that?"

"Even while hearing such ignorant judgements and beliefs, I would still credit the view itself. Every other morning I would think, 'At least Asgard isn't as unadorned as the people living within it.'" She nodded, understanding. "The skies were vibrant swirls of contrasting colors. Midgardians couldn't even dream of seeing such beauty within their skies. Nature once again proved that beauty was in fact in the eye of the beholder. That is what I miss. Asgard as a land. How exquisitely enchanting it was. I did know it to be true then, it was a rather calming environment whenever I found myself alone with nature. Peacefully enjoying the view rather than obsessing over what people thought of me."

In that moment, Ayla had recalled the dream she shared with Loki not too long ago. It was the only image she had of Asgard; even if it was through a subconscious mind; the environment in itself seemed… dreamlike. She wondered if it was truly like that?

"It's my turn, I presume." His voice interrupted her thoughts.

Ayla shuddered them away with her nod.

"What occurred between you and Damien?"

Her face stilled. "I thought you wanted to know about my mother."

"To be quite candid, I have many questions regarding you Ayla. But as of recent, harm was done to you, I am curious to know why."

"I stood up against him." She simply stated.

"What occurred?"

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Deliberately avoiding Loki's gaze. She looked to a random corner where she saw where the wall aligned with the ceiling, "I was outside," she said, "I went out to try and clear my head. He came up to me. Asking me questions."

"Questions? Such as?"

Their eyes met. "Questions about you. He was getting suspicious about how much time we've been spending together. Saying how you've been here for a while now. So, I got defensive and called him out on it. Telling him he had no place to give me orders, and that's when…"

At the last word, her soft voice broke. A chill involuntarily ran a course through her body. That unsettling feeling she had when she froze in those moments, had all rushed back.

But she forced herself to continue. "He didn't like what I said, that's why he put his hands on me."

"That's why he attacked you." After a moment of hesitance, she nodded. Loki had locked his jaw, preparing for his next question. "Has he ever committed these acts before?" Ayla shook her head. "What had he done after?"

"Loki, I don't really want to talk about it. It happened, I just want to move on from it."

"There are rare chances of that happening if you continue to live in the same premises as he does." He firmly stated.

"I'm well aware of that."

"Then I trust you are also well aware that you will always be in danger as long as you are here."

"As are you. Continuing our visits puts you in danger."

Loki huffed a cynical laugh. "You speak as though they've been considerate this entire time. Ayla, you and I are both prisoners as you once said, the only difference is my cell bars are visible."

She faced away, a lump forming in her throat. "Alright, answer me this. What do you plan to do with me after? After I help you escape? I'm only useful to you then, so you wouldn't have much interest keeping me around afterwards."

"I believe we would go our separate ways to our individual journeys."

She shook her head and smiled. "I don't think fate would find that too kindly."

"Fate?" He almost spoke with disgust.

"Yes fate. Who is to say you weren't destined to be imprisoned here just to find me? A fellow inmate."

"I do hope you are not a believer in such nonsense, because it would be unappealing."

"A man finding me unappealing? Now how will I find a suitable husband?" Loki smirked. "No, I don't believe in fate or destiny. I don't believe it was fate that tore me away from my family. Destiny had nothing to do with my path since then, only my father's selfish intentions."

"What is the true story between you and your father?"

"I don't see how that's important. I had a bond with my mother, not my father. And the idea was to discuss her."

"Well, now I am curious about your father. Rightfully so, he is the reason I am currently held hostage, is he not?"

"More or less."

"Precisely. I am curious about the history of your family just as you are curious of my history on Asgard."

"I am definitely curious."

"So what are your reasons for loathing him?"

As each question struck, Ayla felt her throat tightening. Her fingers fumbled about, desperate to move around as a distraction. And her foot tapped, unnoticed by Ayla herself. "He wasn't there for us." Swallowing ached her throat. "When my mom got pregnant he ran off before I was even born. Left my mom to raise me on her own." Her fumbling fingers brushed up and down her arms repeatedly. "She was 20 years old, just starting her life and all he did was leave her with a broken heart. Luckily, we had my aunt, otherwise, I have no idea how our lives would've turned out." The tapping of her foot jolted her knee to bounce as well.

Loki took sight of every action, also taking notice that Ayla seemed distracted by her own thoughts to notice her anxiety controlling her actions.

"And how is it that you are here now? Held as a prisoner?"

"It's a long story."

"Ayla."

"Loki."

"For the spell to work, we must create a deepening bond."

All of her movement stopped. She let out an audible sigh of frustration. "I understand that. But some things I'd just rather leave unsaid. Just like you don't like talking about your entire family, I don't like talking about one particular person in mine."

"Ayla, please."

"Stop pushing Loki." Her voice was raised.

"I'm sorry but I must. How do you expect me to truly feel bonded if you refuse to tell me what had transpired. Why do you hate your father?"

"Because he killed my mother okay?!" She blurted out.

His body stilled as the air surrounding them came to a silence. Instant guilt swarmed over his conscious.

Ayla lightly thumped her head against the wall. Her eyes closed, her quick breaths of rage slowly calmed into slower exhalations. Oddly enough, it almost felt like a weight was lifted off of her exhausted shoulders. Fully regained, she decided to speak. "Twelve years. I spent twelve years of my life without him. Then, one day, he suddenly decided to be a father and take responsibility for me, so he tracked us down. He wanted to take me away from my mother for some reason. To this day I still don't know why, because I was completely happy where I was. We were doing perfectly fine without him. In response, my mother refused. And what happened when she said no? He killed her, and took me anyway. I was twelve years old. I was a child, ripped from her home by the person who is supposed to protect her. Protect my mother."

As she spoke Loki scanned her face, a tear stroked down her cheek. He knew, he hit a nerve.

"So," she continued, "to answer your question, that is why I hate my father."

He allowed the words to sink into his brain. To remind himself that the woman who faced him was stronger than he had imagined. He regretted pushing the matter further than her limits. His desperation for the spell to work clouded over what she wanted. And his insistence, he felt, had only pushed her away rather than bring her closer.

"I'm not Asgardian." He suddenly declared.

Her wet eyes turned to him. "What?"

"I wasn't born on Asgard. Frigga and Odin were not my true parents."

She examined his face, his body, his mind. Looking for any thread or hint of a lie. But, evidently, she knew he was telling the truth. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You told me your story, against your will, I should regretfully add. Therefore, I'm telling you mine."

"Loki, you don't need to just because of some spell."

"I'm doing it because it's my form of apology."

As she observed him she couldn't help but acknowledge the remorse embedded in his eyes. "Okay then. Go on."

He nodded, glad she had accepted to hear him. "I was born in a realm called Jotunheim, it was a world full of creatures. The Frost Giants. Asgard had been at war with them from the beginning, but they had created a truce. My father-" The words burned his throat. "Odin, had found an abandoned child on Jotunheim. Left alone, cold, weeping, defenseless. And so, he had brought the child to Asgard, claiming it as his own, to one day use him as a peace treaty. Odin saw him useful to unite the two realms. I was that child. I had only discovered my true parentage recently. It explained much more than I had anticipated."

"Like what?"

"Why Thor, my alleged brother, was often preferred over me. He was seen as a more capable leader, no matter how reckless or selfish he had acted. Eventually, he was banished from Asgard due to his violent acts of leadership. In my view, it was a punishment far overdue. I was momentarily king as my father had grown ill. But Thor returned. He ruined what was best for Asgard. My ruling. My leadership. I was more of a king than Thor could ever dream to be." Loki's rage was beginning to surface, Ayla saw the red anger pulsing from his body.

"What happened after he came back?"

"We battled. Fought 'til death deemed that it would call on either one of us. I was thrown into a vortex created by our damage, which had brought me here to your realm. Trapped and encaged." The pulsing continued. The events were far too fresh. As she could see, there was no doubt Loki's wrath and resentment had boiled up since she first saw him.

"That would explain most things." She said.

"What do you mean?"

"What I was reading off of you, the first night you came in. There was evident betrayal and revenge, yet you were confused on where you were, which is how I could tell you weren't here by choice. I sensed the feelings of pain, loss, and uncertainty, but I didn't know where it all stemmed from until, well… now."

"I won't accept your pity so you might as well not give it."

"I wasn't offering it. I don't pity you, Loki. I just…understand you. Finally."

"Finally?"

"You're completely guarded up. Being prepared to attack is the first thing on your mind, even if it's only verbally attacking. You want to hurt people before they hurt you."

"I also don't take kindly to psychological observations."

Her lips tightened. "Fair enough."

Suddenly, the lights had turned off, completely leaving Ayla and Loki in the dark.

Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "I guess we lost power."

"No, this happens when it is nightfall. It is my only way of knowing when to sleep."

"By putting you in complete darkness? That's ridiculous. I'll talk to them to change that."

"I am not afraid of the dark Ayla." He chuckled. "On the contrary, I'm quite comfortable with it"

"Weirdo. Who likes being in the dark?"

"Well, now it's clear who is braver than the other."

"You can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes at you."

"Well, let's change that so I can see that exquisite face of yours."

In that moment, slowly, but gracefully, lime green sparks flickered from Loki's palm. In the light, Ayla, amazed, saw Loki cup his hands together as he muttered a few incomprehensible words into his palms. In one swoop, Loki raised his hands up and pulled them apart to spread the green lights around them. Ayla's wide eyes followed different individual specks as they danced around her.

As Ayla sat in awe, Loki had noticed the electric green colors complimenting her eyes further. Her look of wonderment and true admiration was marvelous to observe. The authentic smile on her face was so pure, he thought.

She gazed at him, still holding that look of admiration, only now it was towards him. He took in the expression as long as he could. She spoke her next words. "I thought you didn't have any of your magic."

"I had picked up on this a few days prior. It's simple, but it is something."

"Something? Loki, this," Once again, her look of awe traveled to her surroundings, "this is breathtaking."

A warmness entered his chest, seeing how truly astonished she was to a merely uncomplicated spell brought a kind smile to his features. An expression he did not often give out to just anyone, but as he has learned, Ayla is not just anyone.

Suddenly, she adapted a giddy persona. "Can you teach me?"

"Well that depends. Have you been meditating as I had asked you to?"

"...well, not exactly."

"So no."

"I've had a couple of things on my mind lately."

"Ah, an excuse as any other."

"Loki."

"If I am to instruct you on magic, you must follow the directions I guide you with. I will be assertive with you, Ayla. I'll have you know that now. Do not expect coddling."

For a few seconds she remained silent. Then, her lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Yes master." She playfully teased and rolled her eyes, recalling their conversation from before.

Loki bit down on his thin lips to prevent himself from grinning like a madman. He cleared his throat and regained his composure. "Very well. Meditate. We'll speak of it tomorrow. We should've started earlier frankly." Her playful look faded immediately. The only reason she hadn't come in prior to today was solely for the fact that her neck was displeasingly bruised. Loki continued, "I shall wear your necklace, to hopefully assist us in accomplishing the spell. If we are fortunate, we'll be able to communicate far from anyone's suspicions."

"I still don't understand how."

"What is meant to happen is we shall enter each other's subconscious mind. Our dreams, to be exact. I will be fully capable of my body, my words, and my thoughts, and you will be fully capable as well. Unlike in our individual states of dreaming, we will have full control of ourselves. Therefore, we can and will be able to communicate without others watching."

"That sounds..."

"Simple? Yes, I know."

"Surreal. Is that going to work?"

"It should, yes."

"Have you done it before?"

"Well, not exactly."

"What do you mean not exactly?" She asked slowly, unsure of his hesitation.

"Well… this would be my first time entering another's dream state with their full knowledge and consent." Her furrowed eyebrows insisted for him to continue. "I would enter the dreams of others to cause nightmares and mischief."

"Loki!"

"It was Thor mostly, and I hadn't left any permanent trauma."

"Permanent trauma?"

"The big oaf is now fearful of spiders, which, in my complete defense, is a rather common fear many develop one way or another."

"You're unbelievable!" She attempted to keep a stern poise, but a few giggles escaped against her will. She shook her head and crossed her arms as she welcomed her own delight at the misfortune of another. She wasn't proud of it, but she couldn't help but be impressed by the lengths Loki would go just to cause mischief.

Loki took amusement in her contentment. "With us, it will of course be different."

"I know that. I trust you, remember?"

He felt her words to be sincere, but yet there was a part of him that had doubts. Does she truly trust him? She also kept walls up, for completely understandable reasons, therefore, her walls towards Loki might still be up. The trust might not be entirely there, but frankly, at this point, what did he have to lose?

"Go rest, we'll discuss matters further tomorrow. And if you are worried we are being watched, you may enter here during nightfall. If I'm asleep I have no issues with you waking me."

He was right, she did feel worried, but regardless, she nodded, and accepted to meet him the next day.

In a soft voice she whispered her farewell and bid him good night. Ayla carefully made her way to the exit, the green lights slowly fell and vanished one by one. She turned once more to see Loki, only to catch him already staring at her. She waved a physical farewell, and in return he gave her a friendly nod and a small smile.

He hoped their interaction would help him sleep more peacefully than he had on the nights before. One by one, each flicker of emerald had faded, eventually leaving Loki in complete darkness. But in Loki's mind, all he could see was Ayla's electric green eyes. Bright as they could be as his magic beautifully caressed her being.

He could no longer deny it. Loki had developed feelings for the girl. He might as well stop lying to himself about it. His heart leaped but his core screamed at his weakness. How could he have grown so soft, and over a small period of time? Loki had mocked Thor for falling for a Midgardian woman. Wondering how a mere female mortal could supposedly transform Thor into a changed man.

And Loki was not like Thor. Not in the least. His initial defense mechanism was to push Ayla away, no matter how kind, how intelligent, or how beautiful she was. But what would that gain him? More denial that perhaps the ice monster wasn't so cold-hearted afterall?

He needed to regain focus, despite his feelings for her. Loki had only one goal in mind, to regain his freedom. And perhaps, eventually, regain his kingdom.

In a prolonged sauntering walk back to her room, she thought about all of her worries with her current situation. In all of her visits with Loki, she had sabotaged the cameras for the cells. She spoke to no one about their plans. And, she wanted to believe there were more important matters for anyone to really care about how she spent her time. But still, she couldn't shake the feeling of anxiousness. Sneaking around brought apprehension to her state of mind. And Damien's physical and verbal threats only increased the fear.

But, there was one question she needed to ask herself. Is it all worth it? Conspiring with Loki? Developing a plan of freedom?

Is Loki worth it? She couldn't help but feel that perhaps in the end, along with her freedom, perhaps she wanted him as well.

But she figured it was ridiculous to believe any romance could transpire from these circumstances.

No man has ever gained her interest before. Yet no man had ever been as fascinating as Loki. But she has never subjected herself to develop such unrealistic feelings for anybody before. However with Loki, everything seemed wonderfully unrealistic.

She shook her thoughts away. In the predicament they were in, romanticizing whatever partnership they agreed upon, would only unravel their plans. She reminded herself to not make this into something it's not. Just because she found someone to talk to doesn't mean it's a love story. A love story doesn't have room for the sorrow casted upon her.

Alas, she had completed her walk and stood in front of her bedroom door. Which stood, in the farthest basement of the compound. Away from the others, as she had requested from her father. The nearest form of human contact was two floors up, where a different guard had stood each time she passed the hallway to go down the stairs to her room. It was assurance for her father to keep track of whoever entered and exited her room.

Precautions needed to be taken when she was the only female there.

Ayla rolled her shoulders, physically destressing from an extensive day. She reached to the back of her neck, rubbing it as she rolled it around when suddenly, she noticed something hidden underneath her door. The corner of some form of paper. She figured it was meant to be pushed inside her room. Her fingers dialed the passcode to open her door. As she assumed, she saw a full envelope when the door opened. After reaching for said envelope, she closed the door behind her.

Ayla made her way to sit on the ruby red covers of her bed. She opened the envelope, removing an immense amount of papers from within. The papers contained words over words over words. But only one caught her full attention, and it wasn't a word, it was a name.

Hector's name was written over a folded lined paper. Ayla decided to read it before reading anything else.

Ayla,

I figured it would look suspicious if you hacked into our computers, so I got information from our files that I think might help you find what you're looking for. It's a lot of intel, but I titled and stapled each group together to help you narrow it down. When I said you have my full cooperation, I meant it. Anyway, I hope you find something.

Hector

This was it, Ayla's first step into her plan of destroying her father's business to the ground. If she could find something to use against him, then she can leave with assurance that they will never cause harm to anyone ever again.

She figured she couldn't sleep now after receiving these files. The longer she had this information in her possession, the more danger she was in. Finally being in her own presence, she removed her hoodie, setting it behind her. One by one, she separated the packets Hector had stapled, with their titles noted with a permanent marker, written in his script. Finances. Clients. Employee Files.

But one file in particular caught her attention.

The List.

There were a series of dates and names. Each name was paired with another name. The list seemed to be in chronological order, starting from the year 1990. Exactly thirty years ago, which, according to Hector, was when their operation began. She flipped each paper, reading unrecognizable names paired with even more unrecognizable names. Until one name in particular was extremely familiar.

Damien Shaw.

After that, Damien's name started popping up more on the files over the course of ten years. Next, she saw Hector's name, first marked two years ago. And lastly, she had found her own name, paired with Clint Barton's.

This was a kill list. A recorded kill list. And Ayla's name was on it. On a positive note, this reassured her that they believed Barton was dead. But this information could be used against her if things went south. This was extremely sensitive material that she needed to manage wisely.

Looking at the immense amount of paperwork surrounding her, Ayla at that moment thought, it was going to be a long night.


End file.
